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fullmarvelheart · 3 years

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Crossing Lines (6/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 5,199

Recommended: 18+ readers

Summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Swearing, angst, a wee bit of fluff?, Grant Ward (because he’s his own warning), mentions of violence

A/N: Happy Black Widow Day! I’ve been waiting for this movie to come for so long and unfortunately I won’t be able to watch it tonight😢. But anyways, here’s part six with a surprise character😉 (literally didn’t think of adding her until yesterday). Hope you guys enjoy! This has not been beta read at all. All mistakes are my own. The GIF is not mine, so credit goes to the original creator!

Series Masterlist

“Skye, come on! Why the hell did you drive off to the middle of damn nowhere?”

“Just trust me.” She says calmly as she parks the car, completely ignoring my outburst in the process. “And stop complaining, Y/N/N. I know you had another fight with your dad, so I know you wanted to be out of the city.”

“Fine, ok. But what is going on? I’m guessing Ward has no idea what you’re doing.”

“You’re not serious, right? You know he hates me doing anything remotely dangerous.”

“Not that I’m against going behind your boyfriend’s back, but what did you do?” I ask my, running my fingers through my hair.

“So, you know how Ward mentioned HYDRA’s top runner, Crossbones, the other day?” I nod. “Well, I got curious. We know nothing about him, and Ward thinks he can set a trap for him. I just, I just don’t want him to get hurt when I could have done something.”

“And you know if you did this at the Bureau, he’d find out somehow and stop you. Or Gonzales would.” Now she nods. “Alright, but I’m helping you with this. I’ve got a weird feeling about the whole thing and as your partner, it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“You worry too much.” She chuckles. “Besides, I’ll practically be behind my computer screen the whole time. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“You’re right, I guess. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop worrying though. And why are you still with Ward?” I groan dramatically, causing her to laugh.

“Oh, be nice. He’s not bad once you get to know him.”

“I don’t know. Something about his arrogance just doesn’t settle well with me.” I shrug.

“You’re being over dramatic. He’s great!”

“He better be, he is dating my best friend after all. Now let’s find the next exit, I’m hungry!”

Her laughter echoes in my head as the car moves along the highway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stomp through the halls on a mission. The office was empty, and disturbingly dark and stuffy for nine in the morning. If he’s not in his office there’s only one other place I could imagine him in, his bedroom.

“Please, don’t kill me for this.” I mutter to myself before taking a deep breath and throwing the door open.

My eyes scan the room and zero in on the lump underneath the covers.

“Go away, Steve.” His usually pleasant rough voice is mixed with hints of sleep and something else. I can’t help it that my inner self finds it sexy while I try to stay concerned rather than turned on.

Now’s not the time for a daydream. Focus.

The door shuts with a soft click, giving him the impression ‘Steve’ left. You aren’t that lucky today. I’m no push over! My boot clad feet thud on the wooden floor as I march straight towards the end of the bed. With one strong grip at the end of the comforter, I yank the sheets off his body before turning towards the curtain clad windows.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He screeches, trying to pull the blankets back up to cover himself from the cold air of the room. That was nothing. “Hey! What the hell is this, Rogers?” I pull the curtains open; the intense sunlight illuminates the room causing even me to briefly squint.

After successfully finding a single blanket to cover back up with, I notice the fact that Barnes had curled himself into a human ball in the middle of his mattress to block out the light.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” I groan, grabbing onto an edge piece of the fabric. “Get up, now!”

I try to yank it off him in one swift motion, again, but he’s faster than I thought. He springs up into a sitting position, latching on to the blanket I almost had off him, commencing a tug-of-war over the stupid thing. The muscles and veins in his arms flex and bulge, and in normal situations, I’d be impressed. But I’m getting irritated.

“You’re an absolute child.” I grunt as I fight with him.

“Let go, you heathen.” He counters.

At his command, I let go, causing him to fly backwards and bounce slightly on the mattress.

“Dangerous mob boss my ass.” I chide, crossing my arms as he just looks at me with disbelief.

“What do you want, Fury?” He groans, rubbing his eyes.

“Too much for you to comprehend at the moment but let’s start with this. How about you get your head out of your ass, get out of bed, and do your damn job?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand, Fury. And you’re crossing a line here. Get out.”

“It’s Maximoff to you right now. And what don’t I understand, Barnes?” I ask, ignoring his other remark.

“You have some nerve, coming here, into my room. Now get out.” He growls, tossing the blanket away, exposing me to the fact that he sleeps only in a pair of boxers. Damn, suits really don’t do his body justice, but damn does he look good in either.

“You have some nerve thinking this doesn’t concern me.” I snap back, regaining my focus, glad he didn’t catch me staring or was too annoyed to notice.

“And how,” He starts, finally standing up and slowly walking towards me, “Does this concern you?”

His muscles bulge as he crosses his arms, stopping at the foot of his massive king-sized bed. Though, there is an unsway of his body, and the shakiness that was in his hands that doesn’t evade my attention. Where I once noticed stubble, an unkept beard lies in its place. His hair looks knotted, unwashed, and greasy. Overall, he looks like an absolute train wreck.

“How does it not? Furthermore, how does it not concern you?! Barnes when did you last have a full meal, let alone showered!?” I exclaim, looking him over more closely. I can barely see the fact that he’s lost weight, but it’s there, it’s noticeable. The lack of a hot shower is more than just noticeable though.

He scoffs again.

“This is none of your business. Leave.”

“Stop being so fucking defensive with me. And this is my damn business, or have you forgotten the deal you have with my father? With Brooklyn on uneasy ground, especially after losing their last leader, you’re a target for HYDRA to attack. Not to mention the threat of the other mafia clans. And you know damn well that if my father has any idea that your alliance will cost him more than benefit him, he’ll watch you be fed to the sharks. But it just so happens that his daughter is in your territory, which gives you just a bit more wiggle room. However, if you put me in danger, he won’t just watch, he’ll feed you to the damn sharks himself!”

“I know!” He yells, walking closer to me.

“Then start acting like it.” I hiss.

“You don’t understand!” He argues, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Understand what?!”

“I can’t do this without him!”

The room falls into silence, and I stare at him, stunned.

“Okay? I can’t do this without my father. Yes, he’d been preparing me for years. But I always knew I could get advice from him or help if I needed it, once I took over. But this, all of this. I don’t know how to lead my men; I don’t know how prepare us. I don’t even have time to grieve the fact my father, not my boss, is gone forever, and I don’t know how to do this without him.” He chuckles dryly, hands on his hips. “I told you, you wouldn’t understand.” And he’s turning away from me.

“You’re wrong.” I cringe at how shaky and quiet my voice comes out.

“What?”

“You’re wrong.” I repeat firmly. “To think I don’t understand.” The sting of tears forming in my eyes has me pausing to close them and take a deep breath.

When I open them again, Barnes faces me properly with a look of confusion and mild concern.

“No one knows exactly what to do in these situations. But from one ally to another, you have your training, and the people you trust to help you figure it out. And you have your friends. It might not always work the way you planned, but nothing ever really does. You aren’t the only one grieving the death of your father, the men also adored him. Keep that in mind.” I pause, watching him work through what I said to him. “But don’t you dare ever assume I don’t understand grief.” I sneer. “Or how to continue on with the weight of it constantly on my shoulders. You don’t know me. So don’t act like you do.” He gapes at me, like a fish. “Get your shit together Barnes, and get to work.”

I walk out of his room as quickly as I can, letting the door slam behind me. Two corners later and I finally let myself slump against the wall. I gasp for air I didn’t know I needed as I fight back the tears trying to escape. It’s been six months! It was just a stupid dream! Get it together!

When my breathing returns to normal, I pull out my phone. The message from the unsaved number glares at me as I ignore it, again, and type out a message to another party.

“Meet me at the shore this afternoon. More details will be given soon. Bring the info you have gathered and don’t tell the boss.”

The response is almost immediate.

“Understood. He’s getting antsy about the report...”

I groan to myself as I push off the wall. He’ll just have to wait longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The zippers of my backpack nearly shriek as I pull both of them together quickly. I’ve been frustrated with my more legal job before, but this is something different.

Why the fuck are they making me go to a check in with the case officer this early? A month! I’m supposed to have a month to gain traction and trust in the role they requested of me! They should know that it isn’t safe to possibly expose an undercover operative at all, why would they risk it this early on?!

I growl to myself under my breath as I lace up my boots, aggravated that they’re risking the objective of this mission. If I get made, my father will also lose the alliance, HYDRA might learn of my role in the government and go into hiding, and that’s a lot of fuck up that doesn’t need to happen. Gonzales better either know what he’s doing or have good intel for me.

I swing the backpack up on my shoulder, just as someone knocks on the door.

“Give me a second.” I call, letting the pack flop onto my bed.

I’m surprised to find Natasha on the other side of the door, waiting with her arms crossed patiently.

“Come on in.” I say before she can speak, nodding to the inside of my room.

She raises an eyebrow in suspicion but walks in anyways. She turns to face me just and the door closes.

“All I was going to say was that Barnes is requesting everyone to head to the warehouse, but I’m guessing there’s something else?”

I nod. “I got called for a check in.” I tell her with an eyebrow raised, not needing to tell her who I’m referring to.

“This soon?”

“I’m hoping to get something worth the risk for this, but my gut says otherwise.”

She hums to herself in thought as she processes.

“I can get you a cover this time.” She states sharply. “But they need to get their act together. The cover might work just enough, but there are still people in here who don’t trust you, yet.”

“They might never.” I shrug. “But I agree with your risk assessment. I’m prepared to chew out whoever it is.”

She smirks, then motions towards my door. “Get to the warehouse and leave your things here for now. I’ll make the arrangements.”

I give her a small smile before we’re both walking off in different directions.

The warehouse is packed with people, many of which I don’t recognize, all of whom are engaging in loud conversations. I begin to push my way through the crowd, though I don’t make it too far as I feel a hand grab onto my arm. When I turn towards the pull, Drax smiles at me, motioning for me to follow him. I laugh quietly to myself as people practically jump out of Drax’s way. When we stop, I spot Carol not too far away and walk over to her.

“For the record,” She says, not even looking at me. “This is odd for us too.”

“Is this everyone?” I ask, confused.

She scoffs. “No, there are still those on patrols or jobs that aren’t here. But I’m sure they’ll be brought up to speed, on whatever this is, later.”

I hum as an answer, my eyes scanning the crowd of faces, seeing who I’ll recognize. I just make out Rollins’ silhouette as the voices begin to fall silent. Barnes stands in front of the gathering on a small platform, Rogers and Wilson flank him on either side. He looked a lot better than what I saw earlier. His beard trimmed back to a five o’clock shadow, his hair washed, brushed, and tied into a small bun behind his head, and there was strength in his body showing that he was able to eat since I last saw him. If I hadn’t seen him this morning, I wouldn’t have believed anything was wrong in the first place.

Standing behind the three mafia men, I see Barton, the two Odinson brothers, and five other men and one woman that I don’t recognize. Natasha casually merges in with the group at the last second.

“Many of you have taken note of my absence recently.” Barnes starts talking, his voice booming across the warehouse, commanding everyone’s full attention. It sends a thrill down my spine that I suppress. “And I am aware of the rumors that have been spreading regarding such absence.

“I was reminded earlier today that I was as close to my father as he was with many of you, maybe just a little closer. And yes, I’ve been grieving. But that grief has not blinded me to the enemy that is still out there, just as it has not blinded you.

“The enemy that has let their guard down because HYDRA thinks it has weakened us!” Grumbles of disapproval make him pause. “But they have not weakened us! This clan, this family, is not weakened by the grief of our leader. We are angered, enraged, that they dare try to cross us.” He pauses, listening to the murmurs of agreement of his people. “They have no idea what awaits them. Since the fall of George Barnes, they’ve expected us to kneel before them, begging for mercy. But they will be the ones begging. Their days are number because we will find them, and we will bury every last one of them as we watch HYDRA burn!”

The men begin to shout out their support, the roar almost sounds deafening to my ears, but I follow their lead, yelling with them. Barnes holds up his hand, and the crowd silences.

“Get a move on. We have work to do.” The warehouse erupts in applause, shouts of affirmation, threats to HYDRA, and anything of the sort.

The men begin to clear out of the warehouse, and Carol motions for me to follow her before walking towards Barnes.

“It’s good to see you again, boss.” She tells him with a smile, one he reciprocates before glancing at me. “I was wondering if I’d be able to take new girl around for a drive. Just to show her around our territory.”

“That’ll have to wait, Danvers.” Natasha cuts in, before turning to me. “Let’s go.”

She’s walking away before Barnes or Danvers, who both share a curious glance with me, can say anything. I only slightly hesitate before hurrying after her.

“Thank you.” I mutter once we’re out of the warehouse.

“Don’t thank me, yet. The boss will have questions.”

“Hopefully it’ll be worth it. If it isn’t, I’m gonna chew out whatever unlucky soul is sent.”

“I have no doubt of that.” She replies, and I can hear a hint of a smirk in her voice.

We near one of the doors that serve as an exit to the base, and I see my backpack sitting at the bottom of it.

“Know you way around?” She asks as I swing the backpack over my shoulder.

“Well enough. It shouldn’t be too hard.” I say, shrugging.

“Good. If you do get lost, call me,” She hands me a piece of paper with a number on it. “And I’ll sent someone for you. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I nod, folding the paper up and slipping it in the back pocket of my jeans.

She nods back, then walks away. I take a deep breath before throwing the door open and walking out in the direction of the nearest subway. When I’m a decent way away from the warehouse, I pull out my phone.

“Brooklyn Bridge Park, Pier 2, two hours.” I press send on the text before placing a call, one I admittedly should have done earlier.

“About damn time!” I cringe at the tone in his voice but carry on as if I didn’t piss him off.

“I thought I wouldn’t have any contact with the Family. But everything’s going well. There was a slight issue, but I handled it and everything’s back to the way it should be.” I say over the noise of the street traffic.

“What issue? And why are you calling in public?”

“I was called in.” I grumble into the phone.

“Already?”

“Yes, but I swear if this is a waste of time, whoever I’m meeting is getting an earful.”

“I’d be concerned if they didn’t. But what issue?”

“It’s been fixed, it doesn’t matter, but I need a copy of the contract.” I state firmly, hopefully distracting him from the other thing.

“Y/N, you know-”

“Father!” I take a breath, so I don’t start arguing with him in public. “I need that copy. If I’m going to be doing this, I need to know every single condition, and every term.”

The other end of the line is silent, and I know he’s thinking things over.

“Alright. But in turn, when I ask for an update, you give me one that fucking day. Understood?”

“Yes.” I mumble, hating feeling like a scolded child.

“Good.”

“I’m getting on the subway, I have to go.”

“I expect an update tomorrow.”

“Yes sir.” I hang up the phone and let out a deep sigh before walking down the stairs.

As the subway approaches, my phone chimes and I glance at the text.

“Understood. I’ll see you there.”

The meeting place my case officer chose, a quaint little coffee shop, is two blocks away from my stop. The amount of people on the sidewalks has me wishing for my bike as I squeeze in between people, and there are several times I wished to shove the slow walkers out of my way when I couldn’t pass. Honestly being stuck in traffic was a bit more enjoyable to being stuck behind of group of gossiping women.

I come up to the corner of the street, where the shop is located, and spot its cute little sign. As I cross the street, I happen to take a glance in the window and immediately find a face I recognize.

“You got to be shitting me.” I growl to myself.

The door chimes as I walk through, and I head towards the table.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I grumble as I take a seat, using the heel of my boot to put pressure on the toes of his foot.

“Right, well,” He coughs, covering up a wince as he pulls his foot away from mine. I smirk to myself. “Considering I called for this, I’m not really surprised.”

“Ward, you son of a bitch.” I hiss, quiet enough not to draw attention, as I kick his shin sharply. “You’re an idiot. You better have a good reason for doing this Grant.”

He visibly winces and adjusts himself before clearing his throat to address me.

“As your case officer, I don’t need to explain this to you.”

“You do when you compromise my position. This was way too early!” I hiss before clearing my throat, remember not to cause a scene. “Do you have information for me or not?”

“We’ll get to that in a second. Look, if Skye was still alive, she’d want-”

“Yeah, well she’s not here. How does your new girlfriend, what was it, Kara, feel about you still being hung up on your dead ex?”

“Do not bring her into this.” He hisses, before straightening up and burying any hint of annoyance until there is barely any emotion visible on his face. I hate when he does this, it unnerves me how easy it is for him each time. “Here.” He states before putting a thin file on the table for me to grab. “This is everything that we’ve been able to find out about them recently.”

I swipe it off the tabletop and gently toss it into my backpack, without opening the folder.

“Hopefully, I don’t see you again anytime soon. This better not become a regular thing with you.” I mumble before getting up and ordering a cup of coffee to-go.

As I walk out of the store, I almost bump into a blonde woman that was on her phone. Luckily for both of us, the coffee didn’t spill. After a few seconds of hurried apologies, and foreign curse words on her end, I hurry to the station, hoping I won’t have to wait that long for my ride.

When I get to the park, I decide to wander around for a little bit. It feels good to be out in fresh air inside of being inside a building for the entire day. The clouds look fluffy and soft, the breeze is cool on my face, and the sun feels just warm enough to enjoy without sweating to death. I stop once I get to Pier 2 and just find myself leaning on the railing of the pier, looking out onto the river and the skyscrapers on the other side.

While I wait, I decide to enter Natasha’s number into my phone, then letting the piece of paper fall into the water of the river, the safest way to dispose of it. After I can no longer see the white of the paper, I return my gaze to my father’s city.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, looking towards the voice.

“Content. Happy, even just a little bit.” She says with a small smile while moving to stand beside me.

“It’s the little things like this that make me happy, May. It helps me forget about the mess that is my life, even just for a few minutes.”

She hums and we just stand in silence for a moment.

“What have you been able to find?” I ask, breaking the silence and going into business mode.

“Not much. I doubt it’ll be much help to you.”

“A little may be what I need. I still have some of her research. At this point I just need anything on him.”

“Having nightmares about her again?” She asks, concerned.

It causes me to smile, even just a little bit. Sure, my father hired her, but she has always remained loyal to me, more so than to the family. Though, I have no doubt that if she had any concern about me, she’d go talk to my father.

“More like memories. Still, they leave me feeling restless because I haven’t been able to find a lead on this guy. Skye was getting close, I know that. Which is the only explanation as to why she was killed.”

She hums again. “Still not planning on telling your father?”

I scoff. “After he basically called me paranoid for looking into Ward? No. If he finds out I haven’t let this go like he thinks, he’s going to ask questions. Questions I’m not ready to answer. Not only that, but if he finds out I contacted you while on assignment, I’d get my head chewed off. I’m technically not even allowed to contact him, yet here we all are.”

She nods with a slight chuckle, then pulls a file out from underneath her jacket and hands it to me.

“I’ll keep checking in with my contacts on the street to see if anything new about him surfaces, but until then, this is all I have.”

I stare at the closed file for a moment, before sliding that into my backpack as well.

“Thank you again, May.” She smiles briefly before nodding.

“You should get out of here, before anyone questions why you’ve been gone for a while.” I nod and push away from the railing. “Oh, and Y/N?” I turn back around. “Stay safe.”

“You too, May.” I call back, walking away.

A flash of blonde hair in the corner of my eye has me pause for a second, but when I see nothing, I shrug to myself and keep going. It must have been in my head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to my room shuts and I feel my body sag from the exhaustion of the day. I let my backpack slip to the ground with a soft thud and shuffle towards my bed. When my back meets the cool sheets of the mattress, a deep sigh escapes my lips and I close my eyes, finally enjoying a bit of rest. But, there’s a knock at my door that has me groaning loudly.

“Of course.” I grumble under my breath.

When I open the door, I’m very surprised to find Thor standing on the other side with a slight scowl on his face.

“Follow me.”

I do so, hesitantly, letting the door slowly click shut before catching up to him. The walk is silent, and for some reason, I feel uneasy for the first time since I walked in here. He leads me through the halls, and I find myself recognizing where we are going. James Barnes’ office.

Thor opens the door and motions for me to step inside, and I do, trying to maintain a façade of confidence. And I’m grateful for it, because the glare Barnes wears as he watches me enter almost has me reeling backwards. He sits behind his desk, looking regal, deadly, and in charge. No trace of friendliness shows on his face.

What really throws me for a loop is the petite redhead curled on his lap, her well-manicured nails raking through his hair in almost a possessive manner. The sight makes something churn uncomfortably in my stomach, and by the smirk on her face, she knows it too.

I look away from her, finding Rogers and Wilson in their places behind Barnes, leaning against the wall. Natasha stands off to the right, near the only window in the office.

“Dot, leave.” He says stiffly, not removing his gaze from mine.

“But Bucky Boo-”

“Now.” He growls, ignoring her high-shrieked protest. This is the infamous Barnes I’ve heard about on the streets.

She huffs in irritation, untangling herself from Barnes’ lap and starts stomping out of the room like a child throwing a small tantrum. She brushes past me, giving me the death glare on her way. I simply raise an eyebrow at her retreating form until the door shuts behind her.

“Lovely person, Bucky Boo.” I mutter under my breath, turning back around. “I haven’t looked at the information I was given, yet. I only just got back to the compound.” I say to Barnes, assuming that’s what got him so miffed.

“How was the meeting?” He asks, completely ignoring my remark, irritation still evident.

“I wanted to shove Ward’s head through the window only a few times. So, fairly well, I guess. Still pissed off he’s assigned as my case officer though.” I shrug still not seeing the point of this.

I see Barnes’ eye twitch and hear the soft click of the door closing. I turn around to see the blonde that I almost walked into on the sidewalk from earlier, and everything falls into place. With a click of my tongue in understanding, I turn back around towards Barnes.

“You had me followed.” I state.

“Yelena Belova, Nat’s sister, was sent to keep an eye on you. Make sure you stayed safe.”

“Hmmm. Interesting.” I hum towards the ground, frustrated that I didn’t see that coming earlier, as my hands find purchase on my hips, my nails digging into the fabric of my shirt.

“Imagine my surprise when I got a message saying you weren’t on your way back after the drop off, but was going to meet someone else.”

“Yeah, and I’m not telling you why.” I fire back stubbornly, my hands still on my waist.

Barnes blinks rapidly, shocked, because I didn’t deny it, that I said no to him so easily, or maybe because of something else completely. Whatever the reason, he recovers quickly. A scowl now twisting up his features.

“We had a deal with your f-”

“I’m not the one that needs reminder of that deal, it seems.” I snap. “What I did today, was for reasons you aren’t entitled to.” His scowl deepens. “Now, I could give you some information about it. If you were to tell me something in return.”

“And what’s that?” He growls, but willing to play my game.

“The last crate I picked up on my assignment.” Recognition dances over his eyes. “Yeah, it’s about that. Tell me what was in there because I know for a fact it wasn’t the shit on the manifest. That was just a cover. You tell me what the shipment was, and I’ll tell you what I was given.”

He clenches his jaw, but doesn’t say a word. I wait for a moment before nodding, more to myself than him.

“You’ll get the info the Bureau sent me, once I make sure it’s actually useful.”

I turn and exit the office quickly, no one saying a word to me before the door closes. My nails dig into my palms as I stomp back to my room, pissed off at the day I’ve had. My door slams shut, and I begin pacing the floor of my room. Anger flows through my veins like a fire that can’t be stopped. I had at least thought I was gaining some ground with Barnes and even some of the others, but apparently not. The only reason he let me go free is because of that stupid deal.

One thing’s certain after tonight, though. James Barnes is not to be trusted.

Part 7

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#marvel #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #hbc bucky barnes appreciation days #mob!bucky #mobster bucky #mob!bucky x reader #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #carol danvers

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shiversdownyerspine · 3 years

Text

15. Confession

Ladies and gentlemen we have The Kiss.

The raunchiness is going to Ramp Up.

18+

The passing of time finds you curled up in bed with a little journal, carefully perusing the information you've gathered on this new side of you. The scowl on your face won't go away.

You stare down at the top of the page, at the two little words that are the source of your ire.

Heat Cycle.

Isn't it just fantastic. As if you needed another weird little condition in your life. Well, it probably isn't right to consider this unusual. So far your cycle lasts six days total, with the first three days being the absolute worst. You can definitely believe that this is something you were meant to experience ages ago, but staying away from people severely delayed it. No, this is supposed to be natural for you.

You can't bring yourself to appreciate the irony of it all. Natural. What a joke.

Well, maybe if you just give it time it'll become like second nature to you. Your eyes fall once more to the pages.

You'd bet that the attraction you feel towards the Swedes is the catalyst for triggering your cycle; when the men returned from their first mission, your fluctuating emotions probably set it off. Who knows, maybe because your attraction isn't singular but multiple, it's affecting the severity of your symptoms. Ohhh the symptoms. You dearly hope they get better with time.

The handful of experiments you've done to see what would offer relief have yielded poor results; hot water helps you relax, so showers and baths are good. Cold water is too much for your skin. For the first couple of days you had tried masturbation to gentle your 'flow', but that didn't really make a difference. You wouldn't even consider fingering, you're too wary of the sudden sensitivity to penetration, and strangely enough, you feel on an almost instinctual level that it wouldn't work.

There is some comfort in the fact that you could tell when your cycle was starting, the tingling and prickling caught your notice pretty quick. With the reliable timing, making yourself scarce won't be too difficult. Theoretically. But you're fairly certain the Swedes will eventually notice your missing presence.

It was a miracle you didn't have to explain your disappearance that first night to Otto. He'd been on the verge of sleep when you got up and luckily you hadn't really disturbed him, he just sank right back into slumber. Maybe the mission had tired them all out. Maybe time travel had its own sort of jet lag. Maybe both? Whatever it is, thank goodness.

A month later the Swedes are out on their second mission when your cycle returns with no sign of gentling. Your desperation leads you to throw caution to the wind and try penetration. In the bath your sex was fairly successful with tolerating light strokes and caresses. Carefully rubbing your clit, you breathe and push a finger in deep. Keeping it still and just letting the stimulation to your clit do the work, you push yourself to the edge of orgasm. Feeling a little more confident you let your hand move, slipping that finger in and out. By the third stroke you had slapped a hand over your mouth to smother your loud noises. By the tenth there were tears in your eyes, hips jumping and jerking almost uncontrollably as you came. Unfortunately, nothing changed for the better.

In fact, you were utterly crestfallen when you discovered your attentions had actually made things worse for you; late into the night you could still feel the phantom sensation of a finger inside, your walls weakly pulsing like a heartbeat as you ooze continuously into the gusset of your panties. You continuously drifted in and out, and in the wee hours of the morning with restless nerves taut enough to snap, you listened to instinct and headed to the dryer where Otto's shirt still lay folded and waiting. Retrieving the article of clothing, you curled up in bed with it clutched to your chest and promise you'd make an effort to remember to put his clothing back where you found it. But at the moment you didn't really give a damn about the possible consequences.

The effects of your cycle lessened as the lingering scent soothed you, and though you had to fight this bizarre urge to collect...like some kind of Magpie...eventually you were able to fall asleep.

After that cycle ended, you seriously considered stashing the shirt away. You're just...borrowing it. They'll never know.

The Swedes returned from their second mission after a handful of days out in the field. This time you were in the living room when they came trudging through your door.

Oscar was in a huff, cheeks a bit puffed with frustration. "Jävla hala jävel."

Mildly concerned you watched as he headed to their guestroom, presumably to drop off his pack, before you turned your attention to his older brothers. Otto appeared to be untouched, if a little miffed. Axel on the other hand looked roughed up, hair out of place with light bruising and a couple of scrapes about his face.

The two men give a curt nod to you as you rise from the sofa to join them as they make their way into the kitchen. The first aid you had relocated to a cabinet under the kitchen sink, which Otto knowingly retrieves for you. "So...I'm guessing there's been some complications?"

"The target escaped." Axel solves the mystery for you, eyeing the kit in your hands before raising a brow at his quiet brother. Otto ignores him in favor of removing his pack and tossing it to Oscar as he joins the rest of you. The youngest catches it before giving Otto an annoyed look, seriously considering just dumping it on the floor for its rightful owner to take care of, before compromising and leaning the hefty bag against the wall. Oscar jerks his chin up in stubborn defiance, leaning back against the wall as well. Allowing it, Otto folds his arms and watches you make your way to their older brother.

"And took a couple swings at you on the way out?"

Sitting at the kitchen table with a slight scowl, Axel touches a finger to a small abrasion at the corner of his eyebrow to examine a bit of blood.

Their target was a stocky man who had managed to break free of Otto's hold, had even cracked their older brother's head back into a wall with a wild adrenaline-fueled swing before tearing towards the exit like a bat out of hell. Of course Oscar had left him a parting gift, namely a wickedly sharp serrated knife buried in the meat of the unlucky man's upper leg. They had thought he wouldn't have gotten far with that wound impeding him, but he was nowhere to be seen. However as they began searching, Otto had surprised them by insisting on returning to you.

Taking the initiative you reach forward, brushing the loose strands of Axel's hair back off his forehead for a closer inspection of his face.

"Well...you don't look like you're on death's door, but how do you feel? Headache? Nausea? Blurry vision?"

Otto answers immediately, "Unsteady."

Indeed, as the brothers started tracking, Otto had noticed Axel stumbling a little every now and then, his steadfast gait not quite the way it was supposed to be. After a moment of consideration, the largest Swede had intervened, concerned about a concussion. Oscar had hesitated but once he saw his brother sway after coming to a complete stop, he too was on board with the change of plans.

"Concussions can get worse, you should take it easy for a bit. Let me see..." Before Axel can denounce any concerns, your hand is on his shoulder while the other is cupping his chin and tilting his face up to see how his pupils adjust to the light. Your touch is soft as your fingers slide over his skin, encouraging him with careful pressure to follow your direction. His hands twitch as his gaze follows a curl of hair sweeping down to your collarbone.

He breathes in slow when you once again push your fingers through the pale strands atop his head, your lips quirking fondly. "I think there's a little plaster in your hair."

Oscar's eyes flit between you and his eldest brother before he slips to Otto and elbows him, jerking his head towards the hallway to indicate that they should make themselves scarce. Otto walks to his pack and hefts it up with ease as an excuse of 'putting things where they belong' justifies their absences.

As you tend to the rough marks left behind on Axel's skin, you remember the mark he himself had left on your knife. You had meant to ask about it earlier but you've been rather distracted lately. The man shares his knowledge of the Algiz rune and some of the other Elder Futhark runes; the one on your knife handle represents an elk, a symbol of protection, defense, and guardianship.

"I'd love to hear about what other runes you know, but I don't want to keep you up all night...alright that should do it." You trail your fingers gently over his cheek, fascinated by the texture of his scar.

Axel hums, catching your wrist and holding your hand still. He turns his face into your palm and presses his lips to the skin. Pink dusts your cheeks at the gesture of appreciation, your eyes flicking from your hand to him as his mouth leaves your palm. With his grasp loose on your wrist you gather your nerve and slip your fingers lightly under his jaw, thumb dangerously close to the corner of his lips.

Brow creased with faux concern you lean in a little, eyeing his cheek. "Wait..."

Before he has the chance to react you lean in the rest of the way and press a lingering kiss to his cheek, right on his old scar. After pulling in a heavy breath, he goes very still.

You pull away with a soft smile, trying not to blush at the way his gaze is very focused on you. Chalking his stare up to confusion you murmur, "You've all been giving me so many and..I...I really wanted to give a kiss back. To thank you for the rune carving."

A strange look crosses the eldest Swede's face as his eyes flick down to your lips and then back up to your eyes, your wrist still in his grasp. He makes a decision.

The chair scoots across the floor as he rises from his seat and crowds you against the kitchen table, hand on your side guiding you back. He releases your arm as he dips to lift you up to the surface to sit, your wide-eyed stare and softly parted lips urging him to slip between your thighs. He needs answers. You've been driving him and his brothers crazy, and he has plenty of reason to believe the pining is mututal.

"You like us?"

"...? Of course I like you three, what..!" Your breath catches when he leans in, his fists resting on the tabletop to the left and right of you. Caged in, you're rendered silent as he stares intently at you.

"Do you want us?"

Mind blank and cheeks hot as your brain catches up with the meaning behind his words, your eyes dart over his handsome face. You know you're meant to respond, to say something but there is nothing, not a peep from you. This frustrating silence of yours, unintended as it is, does nothing to deter Axel. If anything it's an incentive to be a little more specific, a little more direct.

His head dips, lips lightly sliding against your cheek for a moment as he moves forward. Your ear tingles as his breath warms the sensitive skin before he questions you, voice lulling and suggestive as it rumbles from his throat.

"Do you like us touching you? Teasing you? Kissing you?"

One of his hands moves to yours, gliding up your arm and shoulder to sweep up the side of your neck. He rubs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip as his mouth presses minutely to the soft skin under your ear. At the sound of your whimper, his lips leave you as he draws back to peer heavy-lidded at your dazed visage.

"Red cheeks, squeezing thighs, pretty sounds..."

He cradles the side of your neck, thumb stroking along the curve of your jaw as he nonchalantly lists some of the reactions to him and his brothers that he's noticed. That they've all noticed. Your lips drag a shallow shaky inhale into your throat at his words, nearly breathless at how sweetly cruel he is to lay your attraction out so neatly before you. Axel's mouth hovers a hair's breadth away, his lips lightly parted as if hoping to catch the slightest taste of you on your exhale. The scent of pine and something heady floods your senses, pulling you under.

Vague recollections flutter in the abyss of your mind, specific memories of the younger brothers floating in the dark just out of reach. One was smothered with the comforting smell of laundry while another one dripped with zesty ginger, both slipping through your fingers. In their place earthy tones engulf you instead, entangling you in the present situation, in him.

This awareness does nothing but remind you with overwhelming intensity that you are helpless to the whims of the man who is tenderly interrogating you, pulling piece after piece away and leaving you bare before him.

When you finally give a verbal response, he's delighted to hear his name uttered so soft and sweet; begging for him to spare you yet also tempting him to give in and sink his mouth against yours and taste.

But...you haven't answered his question yet.

The hand cradling your neck slips back to cup your nape, tilting your head to expose your throat. He dips to the offering, leaving kiss after kiss as your hands shakily grasp his shirt, fingers curling in the fabric as he peppers your skin with lazy affection.

Your breath comes quick in light puffs and quivery gasps, stuttering with a weak moan when warm lips softly suck at your pulse. Emboldened by the results of his attentions, Axel strokes the feathers that tickle his fingers at the base of your skull.

Electrifying sensations entwine, spiraling into a cutting clarity and desperation that demands you reveal the truth. "I..I want..."

The gentle wet sound of his mouth releasing your skin distracts you for a second. He allows you a moment to collect yourself but has no qualms with encouraging you to continue should you hesitate too long.

"I want more."

Your greedy admission is rewarded with contemplative silence as he savors your words. The quiet lingers a moment longer before slow ticklish kisses trail back up your neck, your cheek, and finally to your ear. A shudder ripples through your body as the man softly nips your earlobe with a hum. "And?"

With the lull in teasing you discover the fog in your brain has receded a little, at least enough for coherent speech to return. You accept defeat.

"I want all of you. I do."

It feels good to recognize what you've been hiding inside of you for so long, to acknowledge that you wanted this with them. Axel plants one last lingering kiss under your ear before resting his forehead against yours, "Are you scared?"

You take the opportunity to catch your breath; the revelation that there had been more behind their attention, that they want you just as much, was as invigorating as it was nerve-wracking. But you know how you feel and you trust the three men.

"Maybe a little...overwhelmed? This is new."

The brush of his lips against yours is featherlight, the sensation potent enough to send a shiver through you. You marvel at how badly you want him to do it again as he murmurs, "Not all new. Some new, some different. We will still touch and kiss but more."

The final word in his sentence he chooses to punctuate with another kiss, warm and firm as it demonstrates his point perfectly and steals your breath for the frustratingly short amount of time it lasts. His words sink in. More. And not with just one, but all three of the men you so adore. Delight warring with shyness, you bury your red face in Axel's neck as his hands slip down your sides.

"We will go slow, give and take, share. Would you like that?" The heat in his voice is both reverential hunger and alluring promise. You press a kiss under his jaw, receiving a squeeze to your hips in turn.

Yes, you would most certainly like that.

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Jävla hala jävel. - Fucking slippery bastard.

#tua the swedes #axel x reader #otto x reader #oscar x reader #ikea mafia #the swedes #tua swedes #the swedes x reader #umbrella academy swedes #tua axel #tua otto #tua oscar #the Swedes are kinky and we are going to get DIRTY

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obsidianfr3sk · 3 years

Text

true colors

@renegadesnet event 10: pride

↪ [ “But everything was temporary. And pain was one of those things. Well, except love. Everything but love was temporary. Or that was what he liked to believe.” ]

Summary: Two years after the supernova, after Tamaya notified them the gearboxes that contained the lights had gotten soaked and that she needed the money to buy more before the next day (June 1st), Simon realized they were not enough for him anymore.

Simon wanted a bigger flag.

No. He wanted two. The biggest pride flags he could find.

AO3

Hello, friends!! I hope you’ve been having an excellent pride month and have been eating a lot rainbow cake and pissing off a lot of conservatives with the mere fact of your wonderful existence:’) As my contribution to this month and the event organized by @renegadesnet, I decided to write a fic focused on my favorite gay dads and their sons (bc I’m me, and you should have seen this coming.)

Before you read, I want to give a trigger warning: at the start of a fic I talk about a homophobic attack, which is not graphic or violent per se (it’s someone in the middle of the night taking away the flag they put outiside the house), and I do discuss about internalized homophobia during some parts of the story. If you read it and are sensitive to this kind of stuff, proceed with caution and take care of yourself <3

Also, this entry is a collaboration with my talented mother @healing-winston-pratt, who is going to be uploading some fanart of this in a near future, so keep an eye on that👀 she’s the best skjhkjds thank you for accepting to collaborate, I feel this is a great bonding activity and I hope we can do this more often✨

I need to update my tag list because a lot of the people who were included are not active as active as they were before/changed their URLs. But I’m going to tag @the-wee-woo-rita @lackadae @all-weather-is-bad @chiyuki-hiro bc you guys are the only ones who are still active users who I had on my previous tag list lol

With that said, I hope you enjoy this fic. I think that despite the angsty parts, it came out really fluffy and domestic, it was fun to write. And to all my queer silbings who are reading this: I am very proud of you.

But I see your true colors shining through.

I see your true colors, and that's why I love you.

So don't be afraid to let them show.

Your true colors,

true colors are beautiful like a rainbow

Simon couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know he was gay.

There was a time when he didn’t know he was gay, of course. He was probably too young to even comprehend the meaning behind that word. And there was also a moment in his life when he felt embarrassed about it, and sad, and angry, and really, really scared, and probably thought that no matter how hard he tried, he was never going to be happy living the life he wanted to live.

That the pain was never going to end. That he was going to be miserable for the rest of his existence, and that maybe, there was no point in existing if he was going to stay like that until the day he died.

But everything was temporary. And pain was one of those things.

Well, except love. Everything but love was temporary. Or that was what he liked to believe.

That was the reason why, the first year after the Day of Triumph, he told Hugh they should get a rainbow flag for their house. They went to one of the first stores that opened at the mall (that had just been remodeled after twenty years of being abandoned) and bought one at a not so affordable price. Simon offered himself to install it on one of the fence pillars and had to spend thirty minutes listening to Hugh telling him that maybe he should let him do it, that the ladder Kasumi had lent them was ratty, and that Simon was going to fall.

Fortunately, Simon didn’t. He did almost fall, though, when he was about to pass out from stress because seeing Hugh getting all anxious, made Adrian cry and he started to basically beg him to come down, given that now he was convinced he was going to fall, and hearing his dad saying “Look what you’ve done to the kid, Simon” didn’t help at all to make Adrian (or Simon) feel better.

That night, there was a thunderstorm and Adrian used it as an excuse to sleep on their bed. As soon as he cried himself to sleep, two hours later, after their dads did everything in their power to calm him down, hugging him, giving him kisses, and assuring him his aunt Tamaya wasn’t going to let the storm hurt them, Simon raised his hand to high-five Hugh and tell him that they were amazing parents, just to realize he was already asleep. Simon silently judged him for sleeping so soundly while his son was having a crisis instead of sleeping.

When he woke up (at five in the morning) Adrian was looking out their window, with the Baby Indomitable blanket on his shoulders. The sky was still cloudy, but it wasn’t raining anymore.

“Darling, what are you doing?,” Simon told him. “Today’s Sunday. Let your daddy and I get some more sleep—”

“The storm took our flag,” Adrian blurred out.

Hugh was already awake too. “What?”

“You said the storm wasn’t going to hurt us,” Adrian said, turning around to see them, “but the storm took our flag.”

Simon got out of bed, looked through the window...

And, yes, the flag was completely gone.

But for some reason, Simon knew it hadn’t been the storm.

“Why would the storm do something like this?” Adrian asked.

Simon didn’t know how to answer that. Luckily, Hugh did.

“Because the storm is homophobic, son.”

Adrian laughed out loud and then asked his dads if they could have pancakes for breakfast. He had already forgotten about the storm and the flag.

They didn’t. Neither of them ever forgot about it.

While Simon and Adrian ate their pancakes, Hugh went to his office because, according to him, he needed to check something. When Adrian finished his breakfast and went back to his dads’ room to watch TV, Simon stayed in the kitchen, doing the dishes, and Hugh finally came downstairs. He was pretty quiet, and Simon thought that it probably was because he had told him to eat the burnt pancakes he didn’t dare to throw away, but after he finished them all, he said:

“I lied.”

Simon threw a glance at him. “When did you lie?”

“When I said the storm was homophobic,” Hugh answered.

“Well, of course, you lied, love. Storms don’t have strong political opinions about gay people.”

Hugh didn’t laugh. “What I mean is— that it wasn’t the storm.”

Every joke Simon’s brain could come up with disappeared at that moment. So he continued doing the dishes, and Hugh, thinking he hadn’t made himself clear, continued talking.

“It was someone else. It was a person. I saw them on—”

“I know,” Simon interrupted him. “I know. I’ve always known.”

But even if Simon knew, he still told Hugh to show him the footage because four eyes were better than two (especially considering that the owner of those first two eyes needed to wear glasses). It was all useless, though; the storm made the image all blurry, and the only thing they could see was someone taking it and running away in the middle of the night.

Simon wanted to think that it was just some dumb teen whose friends had challenged him to do it. But when it came to things like those one never really knew.

On Monday, they had promised Adrian to take him to the park that was a few blocks away so they could teach him how to fly a kite, but the thought of going out made him feel as if something bad was going to happen to them if they did, so Simon told Adrian that he and Hugh were feeling sick and that they would stay in their room to get some rest. Adrian asked them if they minded that he stayed there too because he was in the middle of watching a movie he had never seen before.

“Only if we can watch it with you,” Simon answered.

It was a weird day to be alive. They really just stayed there, watching silly cartoons with their kid and listening to him ranting about the weird proportions those characters had.

During the afternoon, Adrian told them he was hungry, so Simon went downstairs to look for something they could eat. He was thinking that maybe they should order something from that Chinese restaurant Tamaya had taken him the other day, when Hugh entered the kitchen and told him Adrian had asked him if he could bring him water.

Simon felt his hands were trembling while he looked inside his wallet for the paper where he had written the restaurant’s phone number.

“Do you want to get another flag?” Hugh asked him.

And something hurt.

Something hurt inside of him. Something started to cry, and to scream, and to flicker, trying to make him invisible to the world.

And it told him, the same way Adrian had told him he was hungry, that someone had taken him by surprise and made a deep cut on his chest.

But Simon didn’t allow it to come out.

He just said: “No.”

And Hugh answered him: “Me neither.”

He called the Chinese restaurant to order some food, while Simon went to their room with Adrian again and cuddled with him, trying to tend to the wounds of that something that was bleeding out inside of him.

Little Simon was crying, and screaming, and flickering, and needed adult Simon to take care of him.

The next day, they talked about the incident with the rest of the Council during their lunch break. It was one of those few occasions the six of them were together in the same room during their work hours. Tamaya was furious about the flag situation. She ranted for a good five minutes without anyone interrupting her about how fucking horrible people were and that she was going to find that little piece of shit and cut his hands off. Kasumi nodded in approval while drinking some horchata she had bought for herself, probably thinking about how to ask Tamaya to let her join her revolution (something she didn’t need to do, since Tamaya always included Kasumi in everything she did). Evander, on the other hand, was very quiet, something that made him feel a little bit relieved because he was not a sensitive person and Simon didn’t want him to... Evander the situation.

He didn’t say anything insensitive that day, though.

In fact, he said something… helpful, even.

“What about a flag made of light?”

Hugh rubbed his eyes and Simon knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

Because he said that phrase constantly.

“Shut the fuck up, Evander.”

But Evander didn’t shut up. “Dude, think about it. No one would be able to take down a flag made of light.”

And everyone realized that, now, it was not only one of those strange occasions when the six of them got together to have lunch during their work hours; it was also one of those strange occasions when Evander had an idea that was actually good.

So after spending another hour discussing how they were going to make it work, they decided they were going to lit up the building in rainbow-colored lights.

Tamaya and Hugh were the ones in charge of almost all the operation because Evander said he had already given them the idea, so he didn’t need to do anything else (and then got mad at Hugh when he told the media he was the one who came up with it). Kasumi helped them, but was especially insistent about putting a trans pride flag somewhere in the building, and after they agreed with her, she personally hung it on the main entrance of Headquarters.

They started turning the lights on each night of June since that yeat.

Hugh and Simon still didn’t get a flag. Three nights after they told their friends about what had happened during the thunderstorm, Simon was woken up by the sound of someone crashing against the trash cans and almost jumped out of the window with his dagger on hand to slay whoever was trying to break into their house, but when he peeked out to see what was going on, he realized the “robber” was Kasumi, who had put a bunch of small pride flags on some pots they kept on their porch and started crying as soon as she realized Simon was watching her, not because she was upset the surprise she had for them had been ruined, but because now she was covered in trash.

(That week was like a sign Georgie was sending them from the afterlife to tell them they needed to install a better security system.)

Those were the only flags they kept around the house. They were small and discreet, and, most importantly, no one had taken them away. Why? Well— because they listened to Georgie’s sign and installed a better security system. Not because there weren’t any more homophobes out there who were willing to do it.

Until that moment, those flags (the little ones Kasumi had given them in a rather unconventional way and the one made of light that Evander had come up with) had been more than enough for them. But, two years after the supernova, after Tamaya notified them the gearboxes that contained the lights had gotten soaked and that she needed the money to buy more before the next day (June 1st), Simon realized they were not enough for him anymore.

Simon wanted a bigger flag.

No. He wanted two.

The biggest pride flags he could find.

***

That was the reason why, after having pancakes for breakfast (because it had rained during the night), he took the car, took the other three people living in that house with him, and after he was able to read the map, they arrived at a store that, among other things, sold flags like the ones they were looking for.

“I want one too,” Adrian told them when they were at the flag section of the store. “For my room, you know. And I want to get ones for Danna and Nova because I don’t think they have any. They would’ve told me.”

Usually, when Adrian asked for something Simon hadn’t agreed to buy him, like some candy, an action figure, or a pair of sneakers, he would turn around and ask him if he had the money to buy any of those things himself, which would anger him so much he would stop wanting that certain thing.

But that day, he felt like buying them everything they wanted. As if money grew on trees (something he always told his kids didn’t happen.)

“Of course, darling,” he answered, “get them everything you want. It’s pride month.”

“It’s May 31th,” Max said. He was inside the shopping cart Hugh had grabbed the second they entered. It was something he always did, even if they weren’t going to buy a lot of things because, according to him, it felt weird and wrong not to.

“It’s almost pride month,” he corrected himself.

“So can I get something for Nova?” Adrian asked again, just to make sure.

“You can get something for Nova,” Hugh assured him, smiling a little bit.

Adrian quickly turned around and started looking for the flag he wanted while texting Nova about something Simon couldn’t read (not like he was trying to, anyway).

After making sure Adrian stayed on the same aisle as them, they started walking around, gazing at the flags and posters available. Simon felt pretty progressive because he was able to name every single sexuality and gender they were supposed to represent. He imagined Hugh was doing the same thing, but with a lot more difficulty than him. He kept his eyes fixated on each flag longer than Simon did, as if he were trying to remember what they meant, and when he did, he pushed the cart (with Max still inside of it, playing a game on Hugh’s phone because he had forgotten his tablet at home), and the cycle began again.

But suddenly, Simon saw ones that he didn’t recognize.

After three seconds of standing in front of those little flags, someone hit him in the butt with their cart. He turned around immediately, ready to say a really threatening “Hey” to whoever had done it.

Hugh was the only other person who was there. He had been the one who had hit him with the cart.

Suddenly, Simon felt a little bit stupid for thinking someone else had done it.

The two of them maintained eye contact for a couple of seconds until Hugh started looking at his own hands grabbing the cart’s handle.

“Simon.” Before Simon could ask him what happened, he added, with a deep voice: “Move.”

Simon didn’t move. Instead, he hit the cart with his hips, just out of spite. Hugh hit him again with it, making Simon feel the unexpected need to grab the cart with his two hands and use his own weapon against him, but Max was there and they couldn’t act like kids in front of him. So he just hit the cart with his hips again, a little bit harder than the first time, and left it there.

He realized he was just going to be wasting his time asking Hugh if he knew what that flag was supposed to represent.

“Cherub,” he called Max. “Do you recognize this flag?”

Max looked up from the screen. He usually didn’t like it when he called him “cherub” in public, but this time, he didn’t seem mad about it. “Um… no? Ask Adrian—” and continued playing.

Adrian came back with a basket full of pins, and for a second, Simon almost asked him if he really was that naive to believe he was actually going to pay for all of them. But then, he realized that it was only the basket where they kept all of the pins they sold and that Adrian had taken it to show them to them.

“Look, they have so many pins here—” he started taking random pins “—this is the aromantic flag… this is the genderfluid flag—”

“Interesting,” Hugh interrupted him, “but which flag is that one?” and pointed at the one Simon didn’t recognize.

Max took a random pin from the basket and started looking at it with curiosity. Adrian almost didn’t pay attention to it, and after a few seconds, he said: “That one’s yours.”

Simon frowned and took one. It was a handheld flag with green and blue stripes, with a white one in the middle. He touched the polyester with his fingertips as if that was going to give him the ability to communicate with it.

“But we don’t have a flag,” Hugh told Adrian. “I’ve heard of the lesbian fl—”

Adrian took a pin of the lesbian flag. “This one.”

“Yeah— but gay men don’t have one.”

“The rainbow is ours,” Simon said, without taking his eyes away from the blue and green flag he was holding. “Like, it’s for all queer people.”

Hugh directed his attention to Adrian again. “You’re messing with us.”

“I do mess with you a lot,” Adrian admitted, “but this time I’m not because if I do and you get mad, you won’t buy me all the stuff I want to get.”

“Huh.”

Simon knew Adrian and Max were a lot of things, but "dumb" wasn't one of those. And Adrian was especially intelligent when it came to convincing his parents to buy him things.

So he decided to believe him.

“Well, I like it,” he said. Then, he asked Hugh: “Do you like it?”

Hugh grabbed one and observed it for a while. “I like that it has blue on it,” he finally answered, nodding a little bit.

Simon noticed Max was spacing out while playing with the pin he had taken, so he waved the flag on his face, making him laugh and sneeze because the damn thing had a lot of invisible dust Simon didn't notice at first.

“Oh, sh—”

“You know? Maybe we should get two of these,” Hugh said, waving it too, but in his case, not on the face of one of their kids. “For our offices.”

“Matching flags, very romantic.”

Max rubbed his nose. “Why don't you get a big one for the house?”

Simon quickly started to look everywhere on that aisle, and he saw a lot of big versions of the flags he had recognized before (and some of the ones Adrian had mentioned), but there were no gay flags in sight.

“Maybe next year, I guess,” he shrugged. “I don't think they have them here yet.”

He grabbed two of the rainbow flags that were there, inside their respective plastic bags, gave them to Max, and he put them on his lap, still holding that pin. Simon made a quick mental note to remind his future self they needed to pay for that (he didn’t know if it had to with the fact that Max had been spending a lot of time with Maggie, Nova’s sister, but he had developed this weird habit of stealing the most random objects one could think of. Luckily, he limited himself to stealing things from his dads and, one time, from a store.) (Kids went through weird phases when they were Max’s age.)

(Because… it was a phase, right?)

Adrian received a text. “Danna says that she already has a flag, so I’m getting her a pin,” he said after reading it. “And Nova says she wants one too.” Then, his whole face lit up. “And I could get one too so we match.”

“Copycat,” Simon accused him, jokingly. “Your dad and I got matching flags, and now you want to get matching pins with your girlfriend.”

Hugh shook his head, disappointed. “I cannot believe you have betrayed your own family like this.”

They stayed at the store another 30 minutes to buy some other things they needed for the house, and from time to time, when he or Hugh grabbed something, they pretended they didn’t see Adrian and said: “Um, but the copycat may be listening” to a point he told them to stop, and refused to forgive them until they agreed to buy him the flag he didn’t intend to get anymore, but now was going to.

He got the last bisexual flag there was at that store.

***

The first time the four of them were together in their room was last June. Something went wrong with the A/C system of the entire house and the only room where one could stay without having a heatstroke was theirs because their A/C hadn’t broken down for some reason. Adrian and Max were sleeping on the air mattress until Simon (who hadn’t been able to sleep lately) heard that one of them woke up and asked Hugh something. He sat down on the bed, at the same time Hugh moved a little bit to allow Adrian to lay down between the two of them.

Then, in the middle of the dark, his eyes met Max’s.

He looked tiny. Young. Pretty young.

And far away.

Simon couldn’t remember who did it. He didn’t remember who talked that night. It could have been him, even. But he was sure that, at that moment, someone whispered:

“Get in here, kid.”

And Max obeyed. He crawled, raised his arms towards them, and Hugh grabbed him carefully by the collar of his shirt and placed him between him and Adrian.

It was a peaceful night. The bed was big enough for the four of them, and Simon was able to sleep and actually rest for the first time in weeks.

At least until their A/C turned off with a weird sound, and the four of them woke up at the same time, sweaty, uncomfortable, and almost at 11 AM, not because they weren’t necessarily willing to stay there longer, but because the heat was starting to get unbearable and suddenly the bed was too small for three adults and a little kid that was not that little anymore.

“This isn’t a room, this is a— a freaking oven,” Hugh said, while Adrian tried to push him out of bed to get the hell out of there and seek comfort on the air mattress he had abandoned in the middle of the night.

“And we are the... cookies,” Max giggled.

“The turkey,” Simon added.

Max turned around. His whole face was red and his hair was a little bit wet. “The lasagna.”

Simon grabbed him by the cheeks; a discreet way to check if he had a fever. “The cake.”

“The ham.”

“The—”

“Dad. Move.”

Later that day, Simon called someone to fix the A/C, and that was the end of the story.

When they arrived at the house, Adrian wanted to hang his flag as soon as possible, on one of his room’s walls, but Simon insisted that they should iron it first so it looked nicer. Hugh said that he was planning on ironing the ones they had bought for the house and offered Adrian to do the same with his, but when he insinuated that he didn’t trust him enough not to mess up his flag the same way he had messed up his favorite shirt (the one he wanted to wear to take Nova to a nice place during her birthday), Hugh reminded him that the only reason he kept doing that for him was that Adrian didn’t know how to iron yet, and decided that he was going to use that moment as a teaching opportunity. Max made the mistake of laughing at his brother when he thought no one was paying attention to him, but Adrian was and dragged Max into the teaching opportunity with him.

Simon joined too. Just because.

And suddenly, the four of them were in their room again.

With the A/C on, of course.

He didn't know if Hugh had noticed, but he had been so invested in his own explanation, that after he finished ironing the two rainbow flags, he started ironing Adrian’s without realizing it. Adrian, instead of giving up and stop pretending he was paying attention, was looking, kind of mesmerized, how he opened the bag of his blue, purple, and magenta flag, and proceeded to put it on the ironing board, now telling him that when Georgie had tried to teach him how to iron his clothes, she accidentally burnt Evander.

Simon was half-listening to the story, half-listening to the music video that Max was watching on the TV. He was sitting on a big and old ottoman they had bought a long time ago but had never found the perfect place to put it and just stayed there for years until they forgot about it. Max was in front of him, sitting on the floor and resting his back on the ottoman, while he covered his blond hair with small butterfly hair clips he had found at the store and bought just because he thought they were cute (who knows, maybe Nova wanted them for Maggie, or Kasumi could use them for herself, she loved them when she was little).

When all the hair clips were on Max's hair, he took a small mirror they kept in the bathroom (but Simon borrowed it for a minute) and gave it to him so he could see the final result.

“Look at me,” Max exclaimed, laughing. “I look so pretty.”

Simon grabbed one of the hair clips and pulled it a little. “Butterfly hair clips are a popular trend this time of the year.”

“This is definitely going to make me the most popular kid in the playground.”

“Definitely.”

He leaned forward to start taking the butterfly hair clips off Max's hair and was putting them on Max’s open hand when he noticed that he hadn’t let go of the pin they bought him at the store.

(Simon did remember to pay for the thing, but if he hadn’t done it, Max wouldn’t have said anything.)

“That was really nice of you,” Simon said.

Max looked at him, confused. “What?”

“Getting a rainbow pin—” he took his other hand and started putting the hair clips on it so none of them would get lost “—to show support.”

Max didn't say anything and Simon continued with what he was doing. After the music video finished, and another one started playing, Hugh gave Adrian his flag and told him he could go and hang it in his room, and as soon as Max heard that too, he gave Simon the hair clips and followed his brother out of the room, asking him if he could help him with it.

Simon, after realizing the bag where the hair clips came in had been destroyed by Max punching holes in it with the pin, took one of the empty pill bottles he kept in his drawers and put them there.

He closed the pill bottle and realized Hugh had been gazing at him during all this time, slightly leaning on the ironing board. “What?”

“That’s my pill bottle, Si,” he told him.

“Ah—” Simon pressed his lips “—can I have it?”

“No.” Hugh smiled at him. “Yes, you can.”

“So funny. Come here—” and patted the bed mattress.

Hugh, being extremely careful not to touch the flags he just ironed, lied on the bed and sighed.

“Do you want me to play with your hair?” Simon asked him with a soft voice.

He closed his eyes and nodded.

After a while of the two of them just being silent, he said, “Hey… I heard what you told Max, by the way.”

“The butterfly hair clips trend?”

“The pin thing.”

“What about it?”

Hugh opened his eyes, just a little bit. “Just don't tell Max I told you, all right? Because he told me he wouldn't tell anyone else until he was sure, but… I think it's important the two of us know,” he explained.

Simon was starting to feel his palms get a little bit sweaty. “Okay— but just tell me, please.”

He checked overhearing their conversation one last time, and that the kids were still at Adrian's room. “Max told me a couple of days ago that he has been thinking about… what he likes.”

He stopped playing with his hair for a second. But then, he continued.

It was his way of coping with the feeling of his stomach twisting inside of him. “What he likes?” Hugh nodded again. “Huh. And has he— does he has an idea or—”

“No, he doesn't,” Hugh answered. “He just knows that he doesn't like girls. Or that's what he told me.”

Simon raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “That sounds like a lot of things. Not liking girls.”

Hugh scoffed too. “That's what I told him. And that he can take all the time he needs to figure it out. Because he can—”

“Yes. Yes, of course, he can,” Simon assured, with determination. “Life is longer than we think it is.”

They stayed silent again. And Simon couldn’t help but feel relive inside his head the moment he called Max an ally, feeling his stomach twisting even more at every second it passed.

“I feel bad.”

“Why?”

His palms started to sweat again. “Because I called him an ally.”

“It’s all right. You didn’t know.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

“You didn’t know,” Hugh repeated.

But Simon didn’t listen. “Si.”

Then, Hugh grabbed him carefully by the wrist, and, a little bit surprised, Simon tilted his head. Hugh usually didn't interrupt him when he was playing with his hair.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“No, what’s wrong with you?” he deadpanned

Simon knew him well enough to know he wasn’t trying to be rude. It was just his way of asking things. Especially when he was genuinely worried and didn’t think about modulating his tone so it It fitted the situation better.

He sighed. Because he didn’t want to lie to him. “I assumed Max was straight.”

As soon as he said it, he realized how silly it had sounded phrased like that. But he also noticed his voice had broken and he had to put a hand on his mouth so he didn’t start crying.

And Hugh, instead of saying the encouraging phrase he expected him to say…

He smiled.

And for some reason, that made him want to cry even more. “Ew, why are you smiling?” he asked.

Hugh took his time to answer him. “Oh, it’s nothing. I think I'm just… happy.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Hugh smiled more. “I know, love, I know… It's just one of those things…” he tried to find the right words this time. “One of those things I didn't think we were going to go through together,” he kept saying. “Like… we're going to be together when Max finally discovers who he really is. Like we did with Adrian. And like other people did with us. And that makes me happy.”

Simon wanted to tell him to shut up and let him cry and be dramatic as much as he wanted because he considered he deserved it. But he tried to do it, the only thing that could come out of his lips was almost imperceptible “Yeah…” and then, a small tear started running down his face. Hugh quickly noticed this and wiped it away with his finger. Simon scoffed and looked away, rubbing his nose.

“Hey…” and he moved aside so Simon could lay beside him.

The space they had was a little too small but he didn’t mind because now he had an excuse to be closer to him.

And there it was again. Little Simon. Little Simon was there again with them.

Just that this time he wasn’t crying, or screaming, or even flickering. He was just… existing.

And all he wanted to do was to exist.

When Hugh held him that way, sometimes he felt as if it was the first time he did it. Which made Simon (and the sad, angry and scared part of Simon) wonder if there was a sad, angry and scared part of Hugh that also craved that comfort and validation, and if it was the one who hugged that younger version of Simon until they convinced each other that everything was fine.

That there was nothing wrong with neither of them.

Because sometimes it was as if people didn’t remind them that as many times as they needed. So the only option they had was to be there for the other, and tell him that it was okay to hug, to kiss, to touch, and to share until the one who was talking ended up convincing both of them.

Love wasn’t temporary.

And their love was as powerful as they wanted it to be.

Those younger versions of themselves wanted to stay like that forever every single time. But their adult versions knew they couldn’t do it because they had other responsibilities that they needed to attend.

Installing those two pride flags that were next to them, for example.

Their younger versions were excited to do that, but they also asked them if they could rest together a little bit longer. And neither of them had the heart to tell them no.

Hugh started to play with a lock of Simon’s hair. “We’ll be there to catch him.”

He knew he wasn’t talking about either of them. Even if, with his eyes closed, he could see little Hugh and little Simon holding each other’s hands and throwing themselves into the world, a little less sad, and angry, and scared than before, without being sure if there was going to be someone down there to catch them if everything went wrong.

“Together.”

And Simon agreed. “Together.”

***

“He’s going to fall.”

Simon rolled his eyes.

“No, he’s not,” Hugh told Max. “I’m here.”

“But what if—”

“Done,” Simon announced before Max could even finish his sentence. “Now, let’s just hope these things stay there as long as possible, because this ladder makes me anxious. I was trembling while putting the first flag.”

Max clicked his tongue. “It’s a windy day. The wind could have pushed the ladder or something.”

Now it was Hugh’s turn to roll his eyes. “Take my hand.”

Simon went down the ladder without letting go of his hand. Then, while Hugh took it and quickly went inside the garage to put it there, Adrian pricked his little brother up with his own rainbow flag pin, and in response, Max punched him in the stomach with all his might (which wasn’t that much). Adrian laughed and pretended to be hurt, but immediately asked him if he wanted him to help him with his pin.

Simon noticed that Adrian had already put his pin of the bisexual flag on his clothes, and watching him pull Max a little bit closer so he didn’t prink him again (now by accident), while Max gazed at his hands, trying to memorize his movements so he could do the same thing when he wanted to wear that pin again, made his mouth curved into a smile.

When his husband came back from the garage, he thought he was going to tell them to stop blocking the sidewalk and get in the house so they could continue with their day. But instead of doing that, he walked towards them and looked at their waving flags, flying on their mansion for the first time in years.

Adrian grabbed Max by the waist and carried him on his shoulders so he could have a better view. And he realized that there would be a day when they would throw themselves into the world completely alone, without knowing how people were going to act and aware that two of them were brave enough to take whatever blows that they were going to throw at them.

But they weren’t going to do it alone. Because Hugh, Simon, and their hurting parts weren’t going to spend a day without reminding them that they were going to be there, ready to catch them every single time they needed it.

Simon started to look for Hugh’s hand just to realize, Hugh was already looking for his too, and when they found each other, he couldn’t contain himself and stood on his tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. Then, Hugh smiled and kissed him back, this time, on the corner of his lip.

Simon felt proud of what they were.

He was really proud.

And he hoped they were proud too.

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #hugh everhart #simon westwood #adrian everhart #max everhart #everhart-westwood family #the warden and the captain are sitting in a tree #obsi's writs #i should get an oscar for the homophobic storm joke

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juliansummerhayes · 2 years

Text

Wide awake

Good morning.

I’m here.

Again.

Coffee poured.

A glass of water.

Quietmusic playing.

And the puppy devouring the penultimate chewstick.

As you can probably tell (by now), I like routine. For me, it’s what keeps me in the game. I’m not, or at least I don’t think I am, OCD but I do like to order my day around my energy levels, my moods and how the work is playing out. And sometimes, and I don’t mind admitting it, that includes a short nap. It’s like a quick plunge into a starscape and gives me renewed vigour to see out the rest of the day. Notice how I didn’t call it a power nap. Sleep is powerful as it is and it doesn’t need us to talk it up. In fact, in my case, I wish I could get more of it but, sadly, if I get three or four hours during the night I’m lucky. It’s always been the same; I just roll with it. Once in a while I do crash and burn and will be out for six or seven hours straight but that’s a rarity especially with our 10-month-old puppy who always needs to be let out during the wee hours (2 a.m. seems to be his favourite time to wake me up by loudly scratching the bedroom door: “Yes, Eddie, I’m coming” (half asleep as always)).

I had lots of thoughts during the night. Ideas for writing. And thinking about my kids, especially daughter #3 who is in Peru at the moment travelling to her final destination. She’s back in three weeks and I’m so looking forward to seeing her. We’ve all missed her, especially her dog, Alfie, who always sleeps in her bed -- naughty I know but they’re best pals. I’m also concerned for my wife who I think is working too many hours and taking on more and more responsibility. Still, she’s got a holiday next week and I’ve taken a few days off towards the end of the week. We’re going to have one day together where we just mooch about and have lunch or something like that. We’ll make it special.

Work right now is quiet. I don’t mind that. I’m keeping myself occupied as I always do. I can’t say too much but let’s just say that I’m beginning to get a sense of what it might be like to a full-time writer, albeit I’ve given no thought to how the hell anyone in that space, save the very established writers, manages to generate enough money to pay the bills and live, say, a normal life. I mean, I can go small when I need to but moving from full-time employment to full-time writing, unless you get real lucky, would require a seismic change in the way we live and I’d have to have so many things in the pipeline and published. Oh, and I nearly forgot, I’d have to have some talent or a gift or something more than the ability to spew forth a few random words.

One other thought that was spinning across my always-on, but sleepy mind was the idea that our education system is broken. Yes, it’s a well-worn trope but when I look at the way the world is spinning out of control -- i.e. the Anthropocene and all that -- what the hell good is it to teach kids a bunch of useless subjects that will help them not one iota for what lies ahead? But it’s not just that, it’s the level of expectation that’s baked into the system, as if my kids’ generation should be entitled to no less than mine or in some cases substantially more. How’s that going to work out on a finite planet?

I realise this might seem all a bit heavy but it’s the way I’m wired. My mind never alights upon something whimsical or light (as my wife would say). It’s always serious, brooding and often quite dark. Does this mean I’m a born pessimist? I don’t know but I certainly fear for all of us, particularly given that I’ve known people born in the 1890s and carry their stories which are so very different to the consumerist ones that now proliferate the airwaves. I don’t mind. Others might feel different. But I’d be lying if sometimes I wasn’t overwhelmed by the way we’ve traduced the earth and have played out as a species and I can’t bear to face up to the question: How did it get like this? But somehow I find a way to carry on. I think that’s the same for nearly everyone. No matter how shit things are or become, we find a way. Sure, it may not be pretty or polite but we drag ourselves forward. (Or is it that we’re propelled by some invisible source?)

Anyhow, that’s enough of my musings.

Have a wonderful day.

Blessings,

Julian

Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

#life #love #early shift #writing #words #poetry

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scotianostra · 3 years

Video

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On the 3rd October 1721 The Rev. John Skinner, author of "Tullochgorum", described by Robert Burns as “the best Scotch song ever Scotland saw” was born at Balfour, Aberdeenshire.

I always like when the Reverend Skinner pops up as it gives me an excuse to post one of my favourite old Scottish songs, and tell the story about it.

The tune Tullochgorum had been around for a long time before one day John Skinner was visiting one of his parishioners, a Mrs Montgomery in the town of Ellon near Aberdeen, the conversation over dinner must be just like conversations nowadays, as it had turned to politics in order to turn the chat away from this heated debate Mrs Montgomery suggested the good Reverend should write a wee song, and further put to him it should be to the old fiddle tune ‘The Reel o’ Tullochgorum ’ If you have ever listened to the tune alone, you will know this mustn’t have been an easy task, but write it he did, this rousing version is by the folk trio The McCalmans, have a wee listen to it, I think if you haven’t heard it before you will agree that it is a great song, here is the full song.

And gie’s a song, the lady cry’d, and lay your disputes a’ aside What signifies’t for folks to chide for what was done before them Let Whig and Tory a’ agree Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory Whig and Tory a’ agree to drop their Whig-malorum Let Whig and Tory all agree to spend the night in mirth and glee And cheerful sing alang wi’ me the Reel o’ Tullochgorum

O Tullochgorum’s my delight, it gars us a’ in ane unite And ony sumph that keeps up spite, in conscience I abhor him For blythe and merry we’ll be a’ Blythe and merry, blythe and merry Blythe and merry we’ll be a’, and make a happy quorum For blythe and merry we’ll be a’ as lang as we hae breath tae draw And dance till we be like to fa’, the Reel o’ Tullochgorum

What needs there be sae great a fraise like dringing dull Italian lays I wadna gie our ain strathspeys for half a hunder score o’ them They’re dowf and dowie at the best Dowf and dowie, dowf and dowie Dowf and dowie at the best wi’ a’ their variorum They’re dowf and dowie at the best, their allegros and a’ the rest They canna please a Highland taste compar’d wi’ Tullochgorum

May choicest blessings aye attend each honest open-hearted friend And calm and quiet be his end, and a’ that’s good watch o'er him May peace and plenty be his lot Peace and plenty, peace and plenty Peace and plenty be his lot, and dainties a great store o’ them May peace and plenty be his lot unstain’d by ony vicious plot And may he never want a groat that’s fond o’ Tullochgorum.

A wee bit more about Skinner himself, originally a presbyterian minister he had abandoned that in favour of Episcopalian, at this time the Jacobite uprising was gathering pace and, although Skinner was no Jacobite, he was caught up in the movement and accused of the “crime” as it was. It got so bad for the poor reverend that his Chapel was one of those that were burnt by ‘The Campbells’; the soldiers of the ruthless ‘Butcher’ Cumberland, egged on by the same local persecutor Skinner lampooned in his sermons. In 1753, Skinner was jailed also in Aberdeen for six months for the offence of ministering to a gathering of more than four people. Skinner used to officiate to his own family within his house, while the people stood outside and listened through the open windows, he was a very popular guy!

So as well as a minister and a poet/songwriter Skinner also took to history, in 1788, he published his ‘Ecclesiastical History of Scotland’. This was a detailed account of the affairs of the Episcopal Church, from the time of the Reformation up to the death of Charles Stuart. Skinner dedicated this work to his son. He was also asked by Bishop Gleig to contribute to the ‘Encyclopaedia Britannica’, which he did with materials on ‘The Origin of Language’, ‘Episcopacy’ and ‘The Wisdom of the Egyptians’.

The poet Robert Burns was a big fan of Skinner’s work, and when, in the late 1780’s the Ayrshire bard was in Aberdeenshire he passed close to Skinners home, only finding out afterwards. The two began corresponding with each other and Burns included three of Skinners poems in his collection Johnston’s Miscellany’, this included Tullochgorum, Burns told Skinner his letter was, “by far the finest poetic compliment I ever got in plain dull prose.”

In latter life, Skinner was presented with the ‘Freedom of the City’ of Old Aberdeen. The Reverend John Skinner died in Aberdeen on the 16th of June, 1807, in the house of his son the Bishop, with whom he had been staying. He was buried in the Kirkyard in Longside, where there is a monument erected to his memory.

#Scotland #scottish #religious figure #poet #song writer #writer #history

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sapphirelass · 3 years

Text

What family is all about - Weasley FamilyxWeasley!Sister

Hiiiiiii!!! It’s... been a while. Again. Let’s face it, I’ll never be able to post as often as I’d like. I just don’t like rushing stuff, or posting anything I’m not happy with, so...

Anyhow, I LOVED writing for the Weasley family, and I’ll most likely do it again soon. Bill and Charlie are both underrated characters in my opinion and I had a ton of fun letting them ‘shine’ (despite this being a sort of sad story, but that always seems to be where I end up... XD)

Also, I might have to edit this once more, but it’s late, I have not posted in about two weeks and I just want to go to sleep XD That being said, take it for what it is, and I’ll try to correct any grammatical errors later. Good night! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: ≈ 2800 (they just keep getting longer, don’t they? XD)

Warnings: Light swearing, blood, angst

Enjoy! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s what family is all about

“How big did his tongue get?”

“It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!”

The sound of laughter was heard from the kitchen as Elwira Weasley entered her childhood home. She worked as an arithmancer, and had been stationed at a research-facility in the northern parts of Sweden for the past few years. Her work took up most of her time, but she had just travelled home to go see the quidditch final with her dad, older brother Bill, twin brother Charlie and all their younger siblings.

“It isn’t funny”, her dad shouted. “That sort of behaviour seriously undermines wizard-muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of muggles, and my own sons-”

“Are just a wee bit too daft to understand that!”

She walked through the door and found her entire family, plus two other people she didn’t know, all sitting or standing around the kitchen table.

“Ellie?!”

Her older brother and twin, with whom she had always been extremely close, both made their way across the room and pulled her into a hug so tight she could barely breathe.

“Blimey! ‘ello Bill, hey Charlie! Long time no see, huh?”

“Certainly!”, their mother exclaimed while pushing the two oldest sons to the side as she tried to get a good look at her grown-up daughter. “Not a single visit since Christmas, Elwira Weasley, we’ve had to do with owls for six months?!”

“Sorry, mum, there’s been a lot of work to do… I thought I’d stay for the rest of the summer though, if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, dear! Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I’m famished!”

Mrs Weasley went off to get another plate, and Ellie, after greeting everyone and being introduced to Harry and Hermione, took a seat between her dad and youngest brother.

“So Ronald? Had a good term?”

“Err.. Sure? Nothing interesting except for the stuff I wrote to you about, though.”

“Well you’re going into your fourth year now - almost halfway through!” She paused for a moment and turned to her father. “You good dad? You seem a bit… tense?”

Arthur looked up from his plate and sent his daughter a kind smile.

“Don’t worry about it, darling. Hosting the world cup comes with a great deal of problems all with the need to be solved. Admittedly, it’s not really part of my job, but the entire ministry becomes quite chaotic when something like that is days away. I’m a bit stressed, that’s all. How are things up in Scandinavia?”

“They’re… somewhat slow to be honest. There’s so much work to do between like October and February, but in the summer it’s mostly filing and other boring bits of paperwork.”

“Elwira?”, Hermione asked. “Sorry, I’m just curious, what is it that you do? Ron’s never told us…”

“That’s probably cause Ron doesn’t understand what I’m doing”, she smirked, “but of course, I work with, and study, arithmancy which, as you might know, is part of what’s called ‘natural magic’.”

“Great!”, mumbled Ron quietly, making sure only his friends and older sister heard. “Hermione, there are four rules in this house, okay? One: Don’t ask Charlie about dragons, Two: Don’t ask Percy about anything, Three: Don’t ask dad about muggles, and Four: Don’t ask Ellie about her job. Break either and you’ll be stuck listening to a five hour lecture.”

Hermione didn’t seem to be bored though, so Ellie ignored her brother’s comment and continued.

“It’s the type of magic that has been studied and worshiped since ancient times and has a very strong connection with nature. The natural phenomena with the strongest affiliation with magic is, while they in themselves have what the muggles would call a ‘scientific explanation’, the northern lights. Meaning it’s only when they’re visible that we can make any significant progress.”

Ellie paused and glanced at the younger girl, trying to see whether she had caught on or not, and was happy when realizing that she had.

“And... “, questioned Hermione, “the northern lights are only visible north of the polar circle and b-”

“Between September and March, exactly… Meaning there’s sadly not that much advanced research that can be done during the rest of the year…”

“It’s still a fascinating subject though. I only started last year, but I love it.”

“I’m glad! At least some people appreciate the wonderful art that is arithmancy, Ronald!”

Ron looked up at the mention of his name and met his sister’s gaze.

“I just don’t find it interesting”, he said.

“Right, because you ha-”

Ellie didn’t get to finish her sentence before being interrupted by her twin brother.

“Hey, Ellie? Must have been fun watching the Nordic versus Germany, huh?”

“Oh shut up, Charlie!”, she groaned while putting her head in her hands. “Holy Merlin…” The Nordic National Quidditch team, of which she had become a huge supporter in the last few years, had suffered a HORRENDOUS loss against Germany, and it had certainly not been a fun night.

Her brother, however, did not shut up, but instead burst out laughing.

“Charlie, it’s not funny!! You should have been there though… You’d have done a much better job than the stand-in seeker we had.”

“What were the results again? 700-20?”

“... 520 actually”

“520 to??”, Bill said mockingly

“You’re idiots both of you… 520-0, happy now?”

Ellie hadn’t realized that everyone else around the table had been listening in on their conversation, but was made aware when Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Arthur began laughing loudly.

“Why is this so funny to everyone? England lost badly too, and neither Romania nor Egypt even qualified to compete?!”

“Yeah...”, began Fred.

“But none of them lost with 520 points.”, finished George, earning himself a furious look from his older sister who stood up and shook her head.

“I’ll go see if mum needs any help…”

~~~~~~

Ellie loved her family, and therefore all her slightly annoying brothers, beyond everything, but being away from them for months and then meeting them all at the same time was TIRING! Having no desire to sleep through the world cup, she decided to go to bed early the night before, and she had barely closed her eyes before she fell asleep...

~~~~~~

“3, 2 ‘shhhh, quiet!”

Ellie took notice of the obnoxiously loud whispers, but it wasn’t enough to fully wake her up.

“We’ve got one more chance, 3, 2, 1, ELLIE!!!!”

She woke up instantly and sent a blast of blue sparks towards her older brother, barely missing him by an inch.

“What ‘ru doing, El? You can’t just go attacking people?!”

He tried to sound angry, but failed miserably, a heartwarming laugh escaping his mouth.

“You bloody idiots?! Why’d you scare me like that? You’re 21 and 23, not five?”

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it? Do you remember-”

“Yes, I do!”. She rubbed her eyes slowly, “‘85, look can you two please let me sleep?”

“Sorry, sis”, said Bill. “We’re leaving in half an hour. The kids and dad left ages ago.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to be late do you? Not when you can cheer for a team that might not loo-”

“Charlie, I swear!”

~~~~~~

The match was fantastic! Ellie would never admit it to her brothers, but it was nice to watch an even one for once. Watching and cheering with her family brought back fond memories of childhood games at the Burrow or Hogwarts, and she realized just how much she had missed actually playing. They stayed up late discussing players and tactics, but eventually their father ushered them all off to bed.

~~~~~~

“Ellie?”

“Ellie??”

She stirred slightly and pulled the sleeping bag tighter around her.

“Ellie! Damn it, wake up!”

She opened her eyes slowly and saw her twin brother bent above her. The sight made her sigh.

“Charlie”, she mumbled. “We see each other once- or twice a year nowadays, do you really feel obligated to wake me up every time you get the chance?”

“Elwira, I’m serious! Get up!”

This caught her attention. Sure, the twins often used their full names when messing with each other, but it didn’t sound like Charlie was joking at all. She sat up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned loudly.

“What’s going on? Wha- Charlie? It’s still dark out? Why’d yo-”

“Ellie, c’mon. We have to help dad. Someone’s attacking the muggles.”

He threw his sister a jacket and pulled her out of the tent. Arthur, Bill and Percy were all waiting outside.

“Dad?”, she asked. “What’s happening? Charlie sai-”

“We’ve got to help the ministry!”, he said while frantically trying to count everyone and make sure they were there. “Fred, George, you make sure the others are safe. Go wait in the woods and I’ll come for you when the situation’s under control. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ellie, let’s see if there’s something we can do.”

Nobody questioned Mr Weasley’s instructions, and immediately left in different directions. There were people everywhere though, and the two directions quickly became three, four, six. Spells and curses were fired left, right and centre and Ellie found herself disarming and stunning at least a few death eaters. There weren’t that many of them, roughly thirty or so, but the insane amount of witches and wizards fleeing the campsite made it difficult to fight back. She couldn’t risk hitting any random bloke.

While duelling a tall man in a black mask, Ellie suddenly stumbled forward, a particularly nasty curse having hit her straight in the back. Falling to the ground felt way more painful than it should have, and her wand landed well beyond her reach. She groaned as a burning pain spread through her lower back, but made an effort to get back up anyways. She did, however, not make it very far before the sharp end of a wand dug into her throat.

The death eater behind her sniggered and pulled her up by the collar of her shirt.

“Well, well, well… Why’re you trying to ruin our fun?”

He stood way too close for comfort and Ellie felt his breath on her neck. She tried to answer, but the curse that was shot at her must have hit its intended target, as all that came out when she opened her mouth was a strained cough and warm blood.

The bloke holding her let out a dark chuckle and threw her to the ground. She could barely keep her eyes open, and a thick, red liquid oozed from the wound in her back.

“Not so high-and-mighty now, are we?”

Ellie lacked the strength to fight back, and to the death eaters that seemed to take all the fun out of the situation. They set off back towards the campsite, leaving Ellie on the ground next to a few pines. She tried her very best to sit up, but ended up passing out…

~~~~~~

“Charlie?!”

Bill ran up to his younger brother and pulled him in for a quick, one-armed hug.

“Charlie, you okay? We’ve got to get back to the tent. Where’s El?”

“Wha-, I-I thought she was with you?!?”

“What? Last I saw her you were together?”

The brothers shared a lock of utter terror.

“Bill, we have to find her!”

“I know… Dad went to get the kids and Percy’s back in the tent waiting.”

“There’s no time to waste then. Let’s go”

~~~~~~

They had been running around the camping grounds for half an hour, and there was still not a trace of a living soul - let alone the special one they were searching for. At first, they had been shouting her name at the top of their lungs, but were now walking silently. That was, at least, until a shout made both of them turn around.

“Bill! Charlie! What are you doing? I told you to stay in the tent?”

Arthur Weasley came running towards them, with Harry, Ron and Hermione following close behind.

“Dad!”, Charlie shouted. “Have you seen El? We can’t find her?”

“What?”, asked Arthur. “But she was with you, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, at first, but we must have gotten separated… Dad, is that? You know?”

He threw a dark glance at the skull and snake decorating the night sky and said, “Yes. Yes it is. Look, I’ll take Ron, Hermione and Harry back to the tent, and I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes, okay? Don’t go too far. Come on kids!”

~~~~~~

Just as the brothers were about to give up, go back to the clearing, wait for their dad and hopefully find both their sisters safe and sound, Bill noticed something. A glimpse of red in the moonlight…

“Charlie? Get over here fast!”

The younger brother followed Bill’s gaze and immediately set off through the forest when his eyes found a mess of ginger hair sticking out from behind a rather large pine. Bill followed closely behind.

“ELLIE!!!?!!”

Charlie stumbled to his knees and turned his sister around, trying to get a better look at her. He pressed his hand to her wrist and breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pulse.

“She’s alive”, he mumbled. “Bill, she’s alive!”

“Good. I- Good.” Bill was lost for words too and mumbled a quick “Let me see”.

He pushed some hair out of her eyes and searched for any clues to what had hit her. He was a curse-breaker after all, but that usually meant working with curses placed on things or places, not people.

“Charlie, I-I don’t know what that is… it’s not a curse I’m familiar with and I’m no healer… You want to carry her?”

“Of course”

Charlie brought his twin into his arms and picked her up, her bruised, limp body threatening to fall unless he held on tight enough. The brothers walked back to the clearing where they’d promised to meet their dad, but kept a close watch on their sister. They would apparate, though at the moment none of them felt like they had much time for ‘Deliberation’. It wasn’t very far anyways.

~~~~~~

“DAD!”, Bill shouted as soon as they noticed Arthur in the clearing where they were supposed to wait.

“Boys! Didn’t I tell you t-”

“We’ll take that later, Dad, you’ve got to help her!?”

Arthur Weasley was speechless, which had most likely never happened before, and Charlie felt so helpless. This was worse than his worst nightmares, and there was nothing he could do. Had it been a wounded dragon, sure, he knew loads about them, but this?

“Dad?”, asked Bill. “What can we do?”

“Right. Er… I suppose there’s no use trying to get you to wait here?”, he said while looking at Charlie who frantically shook his head. “Right, Bill could you go back to Percy and the kids? Fill them in on what happened? Then Charlie and I’ll take Ellie to St Mungos, okay?”

Bill didn’t look too happy with the idea, but nodded nonetheless.

---

“Charlie sit down!”

“Fred, he can’t”, said George. “Hey, I think you missed a spot over there, Charles”

“Shut it both of you! Honestly, why am I the only one that’s worried?”

Arthur stood up and put an arm around his son.

“Listen, we’re all worried, but walking back and forth isn’t helping anyone. Just sit for a moment, huh?”

“No, dad, you don’t understand! It’s my fault. We were supposed to stick together! I let her out of my sight...I-”

“Charlie, we all-”

“No, Bill, you don’t get it either, I should-”

“-let your sister sleep for once? That’d be greatly appreciated, thank you.”

The entire family turned at once, and found the oldest daughter struggling to sit up.

“EL!!”

Charlie stumbled over and put a hand on his sister’s back, trying to help her up, but unfortunately placing it right where the curse had hit her.

“Auch!”

She moved away from his touch and he pulled his hand back immediately.

“Blimey, Ellie I’m so s-”

“Charlie, it’s good. Don’t worry about it.”

Ellie pulled her brother into a hug, though he was now extremely careful, and she looked over his shoulder at the rest of her family. Her eyes met Bill’s and he sent her a kind smile. She gestured for him to come join them, and eventually the whole family found themselves in a loving group hug. Molly did her very best to wrap her arms around all her children, desperately trying to convince herself that they were all there - safe and sound and loved.

Because if there was one thing the Weasleys had a lot of, it was love and that is, after all, precisely what family is all about.

~ L

Masterlist

#weasley family imagine #bill weasley x sister #charlie weasley x sister #harry potter imagine #weasleys x sister #HP #hp one shot #Goblet of Fire #quidditch #arthur weasley x daughter #creative writing #writing #hp fan fic #harry potter fan fiction #weasley siblings #weasleys x daughter

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nerdyfangirl67 · 4 years

Text

Once Upon A Time (part 2) - Criminal Minds Reader Insert

PART 2

Pairing: Aaron x reader (previous), Will x reader (current)

Warnings: angst, rebound relationship

Word count: 2245

A/N: This part was a bit harder for me to write because I felt that I’m doing poor Will wrong in this chapter/story. I have decided that I will have one ending, the “angst” ending, that will be Will’s ending and one ending, the “fluff” ending, be Aaron’s as this is supposed to be a reader x Aaron story.

YOUR POV

Detective Will LaMontagne. He was easy to talk to and certainly attractive. You especially liked his southern accent. He made you laugh, but most importantly he helped to take your mind off of Aaron.

Aaron still avoided you and on the rare occasion he spoke directly to you, it wasn’t more than two or three sentences. You had tried to corner him alone in the conference room to talk but he just spit out some excuse and rushed out of the room. So, whenever you had a few minutes to yourself, you found yourself talking to Will. Maybe it was because he wasn’t ignoring you, as Aaron currently was, or because you could see that your moments with Will were getting to Aaron. Either way, you had gotten comfortable around Will in the time you had known him for the case.

The case dragged on, with the unsub killing two more victims before the team was able to identify and pinpoint his location. The takedown went smoothly and as a celebration Will had invited the whole team out to a traditional New Orleans pub for a drink.

You were sitting next to Reid, who was currently enthusiastically talking to two women about physics in TV shows, nursing your second beer when you felt a person approach you on the left. You shift your attention towards them, a thrill of happiness shooting through you when you see it’s Aaron.

“Aaron.” You whisper, figuring he won’t even hear you over the music and the crowd. You realize you were wrong though, when his head turns to you.

The bar lighting makes his eyes a warm, whiskey brown and all you want to do is spend the night getting lost in them. For the first time in days, his stoic, cold mask slips off, revealing the kind, gentle man you love.

You lift your hand, running it softly down his cheek and he leans slightly into your touch. You don’t move, for fear of breaking this delicate moment but the bartender returns, setting down the drinks Aaron ordered, effectively popping the bubble around the two of you.

Aaron pushes away from your hand and from you. All emotion washes away from his face before he says, “We can’t do this. Especially not here.” He is gone, almost as quickly as he had appeared, ripping the hole in your heart even bigger.

You push away from the bar, leaving your beer, and head outside. You are hoping some fresh air and quiet will help ease the hurt seizing your heart.

You are unsure of how long you sat outside, watching people walk past and listening to the jazz floating down the street, before a voice caught your attention.

“Why is a beautiful lady like yourself out here all alone?” Will’s accent makes his words deep and sultry.

You blush at his words but stay facing forward. He may not be a profiler but he has been able to read you like a book since the case started. He sits beside you at the small outdoor table in front of the pub.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while before Will speaks in a low voice. “Whatever happened between you two doesn’t have to affect the two of us.”

You whip your head around towards him, eyes wide in a mix of shock and confusion. “I saw you two at the bar. And you were watching him a lot whenever we talked back at the precinct so I figured something was going on between the two of you.”

You nod slowly, either in agreement to his first words or an acknowledgement of his second ones, you aren’t entirely sure.

“We can just have fun together Y/N. It doesn’t have to be anything serious. I like spending time with you and I’m guessing you enjoy it as well.” He has turned to look at you at this point so as you turn your attention to him, you give him another nod.

“How about we start with exchanging numbers then first, and we can go from there.” He suggests, earning a hum of agreement from you. He gives you a wide smile, which you return shyly as the two of you trade phones to put in each other’s numbers.

That night, as you fell asleep to the sound of Reid’s snoring from the other bed, you think that this case may be the start of something new with someone new.

-ONE YEAR LATER -

A whole year had passed since that case in New Orleans, the one which had brought Will into your life. After that night at the pub, when the two of you had exchanged numbers, you had become fast friends. It was less than a month into your friendship when you had taken your first vacation days in two years to go visit him in New Orleans. And it was just the next weekend when he came to visit you in Virginia. After that weekend, you went from being friends to being something more.

The two of you never outright discussed this shift in the relationship. Rather, the two of you let the relationship progress on its own. After six months of visiting each other as often as possible, Will told you he loved you. And as much as you liked Will, you really, really did, you couldn’t find yourself to say it to him. You showed him how much you cared for him with little things like breakfast in bed, sweet notes on the fridge, and feel good email blasts when he’s working a tough case because you could never find it in you to say those three words.

It was natural with Will. You felt almost normal around him. Almost.

There was that lingering part of you that was solely devoted to Aaron, even after a year. It was so hard for you to give that part of yourself up. It may have been easier had Aaron treated you the way he did right after he broke things off. But a few months into your growing relationship with Will, you noticed a change in him.

He no longer ignored you or treated you coldly. Rather, he lingered close to you after giving you an order. In slow moments during a case you would find him staring at you, his whiskey brown eyes soft and inviting. On days you were late to the office, you would find a cup of coffee sitting on your desk, in your favorite mug, made just the way you liked it. No one would tell you who did this, but the morning it had first happened, you had inquired about it and JJ had looked back at Hotch’s office. But it wasn’t just the little things he did. The one thing he did that really got you was the phone calls.

There were those particularly rough cases, the ones that involved children or the ones where the team hadn’t been fast enough and more victims suffered, that got to him. Those affected him in a way that only you saw. On the first night back from cases like these, when you had finally got into bed, your phone would ring.

The first time it happened you had thought something horrible had happened. Aaron was not only calling you but he was calling you in the wee hours of the morning. You had answered right away, demanding that he tell you what was wrong.

He was quiet for a moment before he had answered with “Can you just talk? About anything, I don’t care.” As shocked as you were you had done what he asked.

It had happened often enough since then, that all he needed to do was call you and you would talk to him. It went as an unspoken rule that you wouldn’t speak of Will. And that part of you that was still stuck on Aaron was okay with that because that part of you didn’t want to break the magical spell of these moments. Some nights you spent hours talking to him and others you only needed to talk for twenty minutes. He never said much during these calls, as you had learned early on that all he really needed to hear was your voice. And as much as these phone calls took from you emotionally, and caused your heart to ache, you still answered every single one because deep down inside there was that part of you that loved him still.

You clear your thoughts of Aaron as you see Will walking away from his arrival gate and towards you in the busy airport. He had on gray slacks and a baby blue button up that you knew, from where you were, made his eyes stand out even more. You give a small wave as his eyes scan over where you are waiting and a smile breaks out on his face when he locates you in the crowd.

You move quickly toward him, ready for his arms to be around you. When you reach him he pulls you in tight. The masculine spice of his cologne and unique scent fill your nose as you press your face into his chest.

“I missed you.” He murmurs, his voice thick and low. You lift your head to look him in the eyes as you say, “And I missed you.” He presses a kiss on first one cheek, then the other before kissing you gently on the lips.

You walk together out to your car, which you use to take you to your apartment. Arriving at your apartment, Will heads to the shower and you start on dinner. The night continues in a domestic routine that the two of you have gotten used to when visiting each other.

The weekend passes quickly and on Sunday afternoon it is time for Will to leave. You lean into his side as you sit next to him at his departure gate. You are drawing patterns on his thigh when you feel him look at you.

Smiling, you bring your eyes to his. “What?” You question quietly.

His bright eyes search yours for a moment before he simply says, “Marry me.”

You are too shocked to speak so you stand up from your seat. Will rises right after you, grabbing your hands in his and pulling you close.

“Y/N, I love you. I know it’s soon but I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone else.” His words make your heart jump in your throat because there is that nagging part of you that’s telling you of someone else you would spend the rest of your life with. Someone who isn’t Will. But knowing that someone doesn’t feel the same has you saying, “Yes. I’ll marry you.” As the words leave your mouth, you vow to devote yourself, your whole self, to Will here and now.

He laughs loudly, causing a few people to turn and look, as he wraps you in his arms. You hold tight to him, giving him as much of yourself as you can without saying the words you saved for Aaron.

Will pulls back and reaches into his pocket, bringing out a ring box. He opens it and delicately removes the ring, a simple ring with star-like diamonds set in the band. As he slips the ring on your finger, he reaches forward and presses his lips to yours.

“Last call for boarding flight 462 to New Orleans, Louisiana.” Calls over the intercom, breaking the two of you apart. He presses a few more chaste kisses to your lips before pulling away. You watch as he hurries through the boarding gate, turning and giving you a wave which you return.

The rest of the day passes quickly with you cleaning your apartment and getting things ready for work tomorrow. You spend an hour talking to Will on the phone before turning in for the night. When your alarm rings the next morning, you quickly jump into your morning routine, stopping only to send a quick text to Will before heading out the door to work.

The first person you see when you enter the bullpen is Reid. He is bent over his desk, focused on his paperwork. “Hey Spence.” You call as you set your bag down at your desk, noticing the steaming cup of coffee on your desktop.

His head snaps up and he straightens in his chair, giving you a smile. “Everyone else is in the debriefing room. We got a case.” You nod, grabbing the coffee and following Reid to the round table. As you enter the room, the team greets the two of you. You smile and give a small wave, flinching when Penelope lets out a squeal.

“Damn mama, what was that for?” Morgan asks, turning towards Penelope.

“Y/N! She has an engagement ring! He finally asked you?” She rambles out, rushing towards you and pulling you in a tight hug. You are passed around by the team members, receiving hugs as you go until you are standing in front of Aaron. His face is twisted with confusion and pain, causing your heart to squeeze tight with distress but he pulls you forward into a hug regardless.

You are so distracted by the fact he is hugging you that you almost miss the words he whispers in your ear. “Don’t do it. Don’t marry him.”

ONCE UPON A TIME tags:

@evans-dejong

@a-dorky-book-keeper

@omglindsay

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whiskynottea · 4 years

Photo

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics Ficlet -- The Future is Near

A/N: A week ago I got a message by @wickedgoodbooks asking for a wee ficlet about her favourite goofballs. Coincidentally, it was only the previous day that I was thinking of these two too!

So here is a not-so-wee fluffy ficlet. I loved going back to this AU and I hope you will enjoy reading this!

AO3

(You can find the main story here and on AO3)

~~~~~~

I liked Saturday mornings in the library the best. It was quiet, beautiful, and it made me feel like the concept of time disappeared and clocks lost their power in this place. With so few people around, I always imagined that the books were snuggling into their warm leather covers, peacefully asleep.

I opened the Word document on my laptop and blinked at the cursor that was blinking back at me. Having started a few days ago, I was four pages in and had hardly covered one-third of the subject.

Way to go, Claire.

I checked my notes again, looking for the paper mentioning the case of a forty-two-year-old man with infective endocarditis and proceeded with writing down the modified Duke criteria used to establish a diagnosis of the infection.

Major criteria

Positive blood culture with typical IE microorganism, defined as one of the following:

Typical microorganism consistent with IE from two separate blood cultures (Viridans-group streptococci, or Streptococcus bovis including nutritional variant strains, or HACEK group, or Staphylococcus aureus, or Community-acquired enterococci, in the absence of a primary focus)

Microorganisms consistent with IE from persistently positive blood cultures (two positive cultures of blood samples drawn >12 hours apart, or three or a majority of ≥four separate blood cultures with first and last sample drawn at least one hour apart, Coxiella burnetii detected by at least one positive blood culture, or IgG antibody titer for Q fever phase 1 antigen >1:800)

My phone buzzed against the heavy wooden table.

Scot: Where are you, Sassenach?

I blinked at the message, double-checking the time. It was nine o’clock in the morning. Which meant that it was four at night in Michigan and as far as I knew, Jamie had gone to bed early last night.

Sassenach: Why aren’t you sleeping?

Scot: Why aren’t you in your dorm?

What? I stupidly looked around as though Jamie would pop from between the imposing shelves. How the hell did he know?

Seeing as no red-headed towering Scot was to be spotted, I stared back at my phone in confusion.

Scot: Go back to your room.

Sassenach: And why would I do that?

Scot: Because Mary stopped talking to me and just stares at her hands.

My heart leapt into my throat and I banged my knee on the table leg while jumping from my seat.

Scot: I think she’ll die of embarrassment because we’re less than two feet apart and when she opened the door she almost attacked me with the table lamp.

I swallowed my chuckle out of respect for the books that surrounded me.

Sassenach: YOU’RE HERE?

Scot: Where are you?

Sassenach: Library.

Scot: COMING

Sassenach: The Bodleian Library.

I took a few deep breaths while smiling like a loon and sat down again, trying to focus on the essay.

What was I doing? Right. The major criteria.

Evidence of endocardial involvement with positive echocardiogram defined as…

I was still smiling. And thinking of Jamie instead of infective endocarditis.

I shook my head and tried to focus on the words I was typing.

Oscillating intracardiac mass on valve or supporting structures…

I was sure that oscillating intracardiac mass was bound to mean something, something different than the constant chanting in my mind that went like: Jamie is here, Jamie is here, he is here, here, here. Jamie is hereee.

Continuing was a lost cause. I packed my notes and my laptop and left the empty library with a wide grin, belatedly realising that Jamie was coming to me and I shouldn’t leave the place.

Well, I knew the way back home. I would meet him halfway.

I forced my feet not to break into a run. Or a dance. It was two months since I’d last touched him, since I was engulfed by his arms, since I bit that bottom lip of his just to hear the groan that always followed.

Maybe not a run, but a trot was surely acceptable. I took my phone from my pocket and called him.

“Making calls from the library?” he asked as soon as he picked up.

“I’m not in the library anymore.”

“Sassenach,” he grunted. “I’m heading to the library.”

“Well, it’s eighteen minutes away and I thought we could split the distance.”

“Yeah, eighteen minutes because you couldn’t just go to the LMH library which is next to your place.”

“It doesn’t feel the same,” I explained and heard him sighing.

“Aye, I ken. Ye’ve said so about one million times.”

I laughed. My love for the Bodleian library was certainly no secret. “I missed you, Jamie.”

“Not for much longer,” he said and I could hear the impatience in his voice.

“You’re crazy, by the way. What are you doing here?”

“Coach gave me a week.”

“And?”

“And I couldn’t spend it in Michigan, away from ye. Do I take Parks Road or Banbury Road?”

“You’re already there?”

“Aye.”

“Are you running?”

“Well, not now that we’re talking.”

Crazy, stupid Scot.

“I love you. Take Parks. I’ll meet you halfway.” I ended the call and started walking even faster.

Two months wasn’t that long, considering that we lived in different continents, but my heart was thumping loud and cheerful in my chest at the thought that I would soon kiss him again.

After our epic breakup when Jamie convinced himself that being apart would hurt less than going through years of a long-distance relationship, he’d realised – the ugly way – that nothing could be worse than losing each other and coming back asking for one more chance.

I gave it to him and never regretted it. Day after day, call after call, text after text, Jamie took the pain of those twenty-six days of our separation away and made me believe in him again. He gained my trust with every little gesture, with every big surprise.

He was there, always. In the good days, in the bad days. In the days I found my purpose, in the days I lost my courage. In the days I was so exhausted I thought reading one more page would make my brain explode. In the days I felt I had chosen the only profession that could make me fulfil my dreams. Jamie was there to listen, to commiserate, to encourage, to love.

And I hoped I was there for him, too. Life wasn’t perfect but our love was enough.

We’d found a routine when we stopped being freshmen intimidated by expectations and we made sure to manage our schedules so that we had time for each other. Not that everything always worked out and we never fought or screamed at each other through our phones when reality and distance crushed us. But there was no fight we couldn’t overcome, no obstacle in our path big enough to break us.

And when I saw him on Parks Road running towards me, I knew that we had chosen each other, each day, each moment.

“Sassenach,” he breathed close to my ear and took me in his arms, spinning me around as though I weighed nothing. “Oh, babe, I missed ye so much.”

His lips were soft on mine, his tongue tempting as it traced my mouth to make me open to him. One hand found its way down to my arse, and he squeezed in a possessive strike.

“That plump arse will be the death of me,” he murmured against my lips.

“Not plump,” I corrected even though I knew he kept saying that to tease me.

“Plump, and perfect, and mine.”

“Mine,” I corrected.

“Ye’re mine, Sassenach,” he growled and a bicycle bell rang from the road next to us, to celebrate or reprimand the inappropriateness of our actions, I wasn’t sure.

“Jamie…” I tried, and failed, to stop him.

“Ah Dhia,” he groaned. “Mary in the room, people here. I need to get ye somewhere and have ye all to myself.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I booked an airbnb.”

Before I could reply his mouth was on mine and he was kissing me like a thirsty man who just found an oasis full of springs in the desert. With a hand still on my arse and the other lost in my curls, he pulled me closer until I melted into him, his chest hard, and solid, and warm, and there. Close. Tangible.

“Let’s go,” he said and withdrew with eyes closed and a pained expression on his face. “God, it hurts not to touch ye.”

“Is it too early for check-in?” I asked and he nodded his assent. “Then you have to be patient,” I murmured. “Coffee?”

He held my hand in his as though it was a lifeline and we started walking down the street towards my favourite cafe.

“Why didn’t you say you were coming?” I asked with a frown.

“I wanted to wake you up and surprise you, Sassenach, but you made it impossible.”

“Sorry,” I replied, not looking remorseful at all.

“It doesna matter.” He grinned and pulled me closer, planting a kiss on my head. “Ye ken, Sassenach,” he started in a hesitating voice.

“Yes?”

“‘Tis Saturday.”

“Mhmm. I’ve heard.”

“And tomorrow it’s Sunday.”

“Aren’t you just brilliant?” I replied with a mocking grin and he made a silly face.

“And the room I booked?”

“The one you’re supposed to check-in later?”

“Aye, that one.”

“What about that?”

“I booked it for Monday.”

That stopped me in my tracks. “What?” I asked stupefied. “Why?”

“I was thinking… Well, I thought…”

“Jamie…”

“Aye, aye. ‘Tis the weekend and ye dinna have classes, so I thought I could kidnap ye and take ye for a trip to Edinburgh. What do ye say, Sassenach? Jenny keeps nagging that it’s been ages since she last saw both of us.”

“Edinburgh?”

“Aye. I ken ye have the essay ye’re working on, but I thought it’d be nice to go back.”

Edinburgh. It wasn’t a bad idea. In fact, it was a really, really good idea.

“Okay,” I said with a smile.

“Aye?”

“Aye, you insufferable Scot. Let’s go to Edinburgh. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Jenny kicking your arse.”

He looked at me with wide eyes, feigning surprise. “And here I thought ye like my arse!”

We went back to my dorm where I quickly packed my toothbrush and a change of clothes and ran to the train station. It was a six-hours trip that I was never excited to make, but having Jamie sitting next to me changed everything. The destination didn’t matter anymore – it was the journey and the time we would spend together that was important.

The train rolled on the rails and Jamie wrapped his arm around me, pulling me impossibly close. I laid my head on his chest and closed my eyes, the scent of his cologne permeated my senses. We fell in a comfortable silence thick with love and contentment, two ships finding haven in a deserted island.

When I opened my eyes I was greeted by the British landscape and a small tilt of my head revealed that Jamie had fallen asleep. Locks of auburn hair had fallen on his forehead and a soft smile was curving up his lips.

It was happiness that filled my lungs with my next breath. So simple, so pure.

It seemed that I fell asleep as well and we both woke up because of the commotion when we reached Sheffield. With the confusion granted by awakenings, we looked out the window for a moment until Jamie yawned and hugged me tighter.

“I’d forgotten how long this trip is,” he said in a gruff, sleepy voice.

“At least we were sleeping during the first half of it.”

“Aye. I was exhausted. Didna manage to sleep enough on the plane.”

“Mmm, you never do.”

“In contrast to other people, I’m not mentioning any names mind you, who sleep in airports and almost miss their flights!”

“I happened only once, okay?”

“Are ye sure? Because I remember you running to your gate –”

“Hey!” I interrupted, elbowing his stomach. Not that he would feel anything with the six-pack he’d made for himself through training. “The other two times –”

“Three.”

I huffed in indignation. “Three times,” I consented, narrowing my eyes at him, “These times I wasn’t sleeping. I was just distracted!”

“Still. It counts.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Ye were reading yer books and got so engrossed in them that you almost lost yer connecting flight. It counts.”

“Fuck you,” I whispered in his ear because there was a mother with a sweet little boy at the seats in front of ours, but I was smiling and he must have heard it.

“Only with you. And I canna wait.” He placed an opened mouth kiss on my neck and I bit back a moan.

“I hate you, Jamie Fraser,” I keened, unable to imbue my voice with the strength the sentiment owed to have.

Jamie, his eyes on my heaving chest, murmured back, “I’m looking forward to ye hating me a bit more.”

“I’ll punish you for that,” I vowed and ran my hand up his tight, stopping exactly where he didn’t want me to.

His groan made a shiver ran down my spine.

To distract ourselves from images of savouring each other, we bought salt and vinegar crisps, jaffa cakes and hobnobs. Jamie devoured half of them before I had even finished my handful of crisps.

“I thought you professionals had to watch your diet,” I mumbled, still chewing.

Jamie looked semi-embarrassed for a moment, then shrugged. “Cheat day.”

“Okay, if that’s the label you put on your sins…”

“These are totally healthy Sassenach,” he said with a crooked smile. “Vegetables.” He raised the package of crisps and shook it between us. “These have oats and oats are verra nutritious,” he said with a nudge at the hobnobs and these…” he hesitated for a moment.

“Have orange jam so it’s like eating fruits?” I suggested.

“See?” He grinned. “You get me.”

I laughed and took one of the jaffa cakes before they all disappeared into the giant’s mouth.

I hoped we didn’t smell like oranges when we arrived in Edinburgh.

“I hope we won’t smell like oranges when we arrive in Edinburgh,” Jamie echoed my thought and I turned to look at him, wide-eyed and incredulous.

“Why?” I asked before he had enough time to think what he just said.

“Because Jenny –” he stopped abruptly. “Shite.”

“Oh my god.”

“Ye ken?”

“You know too?”

We gaped at each other, unsure how to proceed.

“Jenny hates oranges as of late,” I stated.

“Aye.”

“Do you know why?”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” I confessed feeling a smile curving up the corners of my mouth.

“I will kill her!” Jamie exclaimed and started typing furiously on his phone before he asked me to pose for an angry selfie.

“She says she wanted to check how long we would keep it from each other!” he exclaimed in frustration a moment later. “That evil…”

I barked a laugh, shaking my head. “This sister of yours is unbelievable.”

“Aye, she reminds me of yer best friend,” he retorted.

“So this was why you wanted to go to Edinburgh?” I asked and saw his eyes soften and his lips mirror mine in a grin.

“I will be an uncle, Sassenach!”

“I know! It was the best news! Although, now that I think about it, it was bound to happen, sooner or later.”

“She said it wasna exactly planned, but they were so happy when we talked. Ian has even started building a crib because he wants something special for the baby.”

“Ian is the sweetest,” I said and the screen of Jamie’s phone lit up with a new message from Jenny. It was a picture of her and Ian laughing and below it wrote, ‘We love you! All three of us!”

“Do they know we’re on the way?”

Jamie smiled mischievously and shook his head.

“Suits them right.”

We finished eating while speculating about the baby’s sex, Jenny and Ian’s wedding and the possibility of Ian failing in his endeavour to build a crib on his own.

In eight months, Jenny would be a mum. It felt surreal and yet so right.

The future wasn’t that far away, it seemed.

“I was talking to Maisri the other day. About you.”

“Aye?” His voice was low but I felt the question vibrating through his body.

“About your dream of getting your own swimming pool and teaching children with intellectual disabilities. When you told me that John wanted to be your partner and invest in your plan once you both come back to the UK, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Maisri wants to be a psychiatrist, you know. She said it’s a brilliant idea. She’d read a review published a few years ago that claimed that hydrotherapy shows potential as a treatment method for social interactions and behaviours in children with autism spectrum disorders. And we were thinking that muscle building will also help with balance and mobility.”

“‘Tis still a dream, ye ken that, aye?”

“I know. I’m just reminding you that it’s a great dream.”

Jamie chuckled and gently tucked an errant curl behind my ear. “Thank ye, mo ghraidh.” A soft kiss on my temple. “But first, I have one more year in the US and I want to make it to the Senior Gold Squad of the Scottish Swimming National Squad Selections.”

“Mmm,” I agreed with a kiss on his chest. “I’m sure you will. You’re one of the top competitive swimmers in your uni and you’ve already won medals. They’ll be fools not to have you.”

“And then I will be an hour away, Sassenach. An hour away,” he repeated. “Can you imagine?”

“An hour by plane. Six hours by car.”

“Even so. I will be able to come to see you at weekends. Every. Single. Weekend.”

It was that moment when it hit me.

“I have to find a place,” I said, frowning.

Jamie mirrored my expression. “Ye dinna want to?”

I was silent, thinking about it, considering my options and the budget I could afford, but apparently Jamie perceived my silence as a denial. “I guess I can book a room when I’m in Oxford if you want to stay with Mary.” There was a bitterness in his voice that he didn’t manage to conceal.

“No, I don’t. It’s not that. “ He didn’t seem convinced. He turned slightly and gazed out the window. “Jamie…”

“‘Tis fine,” he said in a low voice.

“No, it’s not. Look at me.” When he didn’t, I cupped his face with both hands until his eyes were on mine. “Will you stop jumping into conclusions? I didn’t reply immediately because I hadn’t considered finding a place of my own before. I’ll talk to uncle Lamb.”

“Ye don’t have to if ye dinna want it, Sassenach.”

I could almost taste his disappointment and I wanted to kiss him until he knew that I didn’t have any second thoughts about that.

“Who said I don’t want it?” When he didn’t reply I pulled his head down so that his lips were on mine. “A place of my own?” I whispered on his mouth. “To be with my stubborn Scot every weekend?” I licked his lips and they opened for me. “Hell yes,” I said and kissed him until we were gasping for breath.

When we broke apart, we were both smiling. The future wasn’t that far away anymore.

#thermodynamics #the first law of thermodynamics #jamie x claire #high school AU #college AU #ficlet #thermo ficlet #the future is near #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction

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stereksecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, tails89!

For @tails89. I had so much fun writing this! The only explicit part is near the end, and I had a lot of fun writing our two boys being so adorably clueless while the rest of the pack, well…you know. Hope you enjoy your gift!

Read On AO3

*****

Unexpected Gifts

Chapter 1 - It Starts With Christmas Decorations

Stiles balanced precariously on the ladder, adjusting the garland that he was strategically placing in the center of the doorway. Sure, Derek claimed he wasn’t in the holiday spirit, but that didn’t mean that he had to pull the fun out of it for everyone else in the pack. This was their first Christmas where there wasn’t something trying to kill them, so he was taking advantage of it, gosh darn it!

Well, sure it was only a few days before Thanksgiving, but Stiles was planning on enjoying the holidays early, so to hell with Derek and his Grinch and Scrooge-like attitude.

He heard a snort and looked down and saw Erica looking up at him, a smirk on her perfectly red lips as she emerged from the kitchen with a bag of chips in her hand.

“Derek know what you’re doing?” she asked, an eyebrow arched, and Stiles replied, “Nope! And you’re not gonna tell him. He’s not back until eight,” he added as he got down from the ladder, “Which means we have three hours to get this place put into shape.”

She snorted.

“Yeah, because I was planning on sharing a grave with you. Nothing doing, Riding Hood,” she said, and Stiles rolled his eyes at hearing her nickname for him. “If you’re gonna decorate the house, I’ll let you live with the bodily harm that follows.”

He glared at her as he moved the ladder over to another doorway and picked up another sprig of mistletoe and, as he ascended the ladder, said, “He’d never hurt me, I’m not one of you. You guys heal, I don’t, so I think I’m pretty safe from anything he might want to do to me,” and she laughed and said, “Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that,” and then wandered into the living room, while he stuck his tongue out at her back as she walked away.

He went back to decorating, fully annoyed that none of the pack was offering to help him. Instead, they had all piled onto the couch and the floor in front of the couch and were watching some sort of horror film that they were giggling at, and then throwing chips and popcorn at the tv when they saw inaccuracies.

Stiles rolled his eyes as Isaac burrowed into his head into Erica’s shoulder, who patted him on the back reassuringly while she was sprawled on top of Boyd.

Scott, Liam, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson were all on the floor, Liam in the middle of the two couples, his feet in Lydia’s lap and his head on Allison’s thighs, looking the most bored out of the five of them. Stiles smiled at seeing them being nice to their newest member. He’d showed up in town about six months before, and now it was as if he had always been a part of the pack and it was nice to see Jackson being nice to the newbie, as well as everyone else. For some reason, Jackson was remarkably protective of the youngest member of their pack, and everyone found it amusing.

Right at that moment, however, Stiles noticed that even though Jackson had one arm around his girlfriend’s waist, his other free hand lingered on Liam’s ankle, his thumb absently stroking back and forth.

Stiles grinned and then slowly got down from the ladder as he heard the front door open.

“You’re cleaning up all the food you threw at the tv!” Derek yelled as he kicked the door closed behind him, “I can smell the popcorn and chips!”, and then he walked into the living room…and he froze.

He watched Derek’s eyes as they scanned around the room, the bag with four two-liters of soda in it hanging forgotten on one arm, his phone in his hand, his thumb stopped mid-scroll of something that he’d been looking at as he’d walked into the house, and he watched as the alpha eventually brought his gaze full circle back to him. He threw out his arms and smiled brightly.

“Whaddaya think, big guy? Isn’t it great?” he said, unable to keep the glee from his words.

Derek was silent.

In the middle of the silence there was the sound of a saw buzzing on the screen and then the sound of someone screaming as a limb was cut off in a spray of blood and guts, and Stiles could feel the nervousness settling in. Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have gone and decorated so impulsively, but he knew that if he’d tried to get permission, it never would have happened, so he hadn’t had a choice.

And then, from the corner of the couch, Scott said, “We told him not to do it, Derek. None of us helped, we swear!” and Stiles shot a murderous glare at him.

He then looked back at Derek, who had finally closed his mouth.

But then he said…

“It looks nice, Stiles. Thanks.”

And then disappeared down the hall to the kitchen, while the pack looked on in shock. Feeling triumphant, Stiles pumped his arm in the air, did a little jump, and then shouted, “Boo yah! Told ya, bitches! I’m untouchable and he liked it!”

Lydia muttered something under her breath that Stiles couldn’t hear, but, of course, the rest of the pack could, and they all burst out into fits of laughter, and he was annoyed with them once more.

“Okay, seriously?” he groused, walking over and retrieving the ladder and folding it up. “You guys can’t keep doing that, you know! It’s very rude to those of us without superhuman hearing!”, but she simply rolled her eyes and looked up at him and said, “Sweetie, you are adorably clueless. Now, how about you go and help him with the rest of the groceries?”

He scoffed, opened his mouth to try and say something…but nothing came out, so he ducked out, not meeting anyone’s eyes, and then grabbed as many bags as he could, ignoring the eye roll that Derek sent in his direction as he walked into the kitchen, struggling with the bags, one of them nearly cutting off the circulation in his left arm. He got them onto the counter and then went to get a few more, but one glare from Derek kept him in the kitchen.

Derek came back a minute later with the rest of the bags, not even breaking a sweat and Stiles started to unpack them, saying, “Okay, fine, keep on showing off your werewolf strength, but you and I both know that if it wasn’t for me, you’d have been making two more trips.”

Derek snorted, as if amused, and the two of them finished unpacking all of the food.

The pack was currently staying at Derek’s house, which had been completely renovated and rebuilt over the past year, and every one of them had a bedroom. Except for Stiles, of course, who still lived at home with his dad, but he didn’t mind.

However, it still bothered him a little bit, considering not only had Allison moved in, her and Scott sharing a room, but Lydia had also moved in, sharing a room with Jackson on the second floor.

Erica and Boyd had their own attic bedroom, and Isaac and Liam were sharing a room as platonic roommates. Stiles had it on good authority, though, that Isaac regularly snuck over to Scott and Allison’s room, and Liam tended to disappear at night for several hours and had been seen sneaking out of Jackson and Lydia’s room in the wee hours of the morning. Stiles actually found it all rather adorable, though he wouldn’t lie and say that he didn’t feel a little bit left out of the pack.

Stiles was over as often as possible, of course, but he still felt the need to keep an eye on his dad. It was more instinct than anything else, but he trusted his gut instinct, because it had never steered him wrong, and he just had the feeling that his dad needed him at home for a little while longer.

Derek, as he was putting away the milk, suddenly asked, “So, are you coming over for Thanksgiving this year? Or are you going to spend it with your dad?”

Stiles stopped in the middle of putting away a box of mac and cheese and answered, “Uh, yeah, I, uh…hadn’t really thought about it. Dad’s schedule is kinda weird right now, what with them trying to hire a new deputy and all, and so…yeah. Dunno. I mean, I’d like to,” he stressed, not wanting to give the alpha the wrong impression, “But I’m not sure what it’s going to be like…”

His voice drifted, and then he quickly added, “Uh, what are you and the pack planning? I wasn’t aware that you guys had plans for it.”

Derek shrugged and kept on putting away, groceries, Stiles resuming it, as well.

“I thought I could convince them to celebrate. When…when mom was alive, we used to have a really huge meal, invite all the cousins, eat way too much food in the middle of the day, and then spend the rest of the day working it off by running around the property in our shifts. And then come back after to eat even more food,” he added with a faint smile on the corner of his lips, and Stiles briefly marveled at the fact that Derek was offering up such personal information about himself so easily.

Derek then coughed and said, “You know, something like that. I’ll have to spend an obscene amount of money to feed them all, but you know--”

“You actually have an obscene amount of money,” Stiles supplied, and Derek ducked his head as if embarrassed, but then nodded. “So, why don’t you spend it and go all out for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year?” Stiles goaded. “This is one of the few times of year where things quiet down, and it’s the first time in a long time that everyone is here at the same time. Let’s spoil ourselves.”

He gave Stiles a look, with that infamous eyebrow arch, but the look had no effect on him.

Instead, he said, “Not only can we have an awesome Thanksgiving, but we can go out and get special presents for everyone in the pack for Christmas. I’ll help you pick stuff out.”

Derek still seemed suspicious, but then let out a sigh, rolled his eyes, and said, “Alright. Fine.”

Yes!

The next day, Stiles got there nice and early and was amused when Lydia opened the door looking pissed off, still in her pajamas and growled out, “Get him out of here, Stiles. And don’t ever come by this early again,” and he slipped past her into the house, noticing that she was the only one not looking awake and that was how he discovered that Lydia Martin was not a morning person.

Derek appeared at the top of the stairs and Stiles swallowed.

He was wearing dark wash jeans that fit him just right and a dark gray henley that only emphasized the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist.

Stiles had a hunch that even if Derek wasn’t a werewolf, that he would still look as hot as he did right at that moment. He tried to ignore it as best he could and said, “Hey, uh, you ready to go?” and Derek nodded and replied, “Yeah, just let me grab my keys,” to which Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes and said, “Nuh uh. We’re taking my car, sourwolf. Your car won’t hold everything, and you know it.”

The werewolf gave him a look, to which Stiles responded, “Don’t give me the eyebrows of judgment,” and brushed past him and tossed back at him, “And bring a coat!”

Soon enough they were at the largest department store in Beacon Hills and Stiles was sticking close to Derek’s shoulder, a list in one hand, reading off what he had figured out so far in terms of gifts.

“Okay, I’ve a gift certificate for Allison, Lydia, and Erica to the new spa that just opened up. After saving the owner from that witch, they felt beholden to us, so I took shameless advantage of it,” he said. He then continued with, “…And I got Jackson one, too. I know him far too well,” at which Derek snorted. “I’m thinking about a new scarf for Isaac, some comic books for Scott, a notebook for Boyd, our little closet poet,” he couldn’t help but tease, “And Liam…well, I thought I could just give him cold hard cash. I don’t know him as well as I’d like to.”

Derek muttered as he fingered the edge of a sweater on a table, “He likes science fiction…”

Stiles stopped and gave him a look.

“And since when do you talk to Liam?” he prodded, slightly amused, but also curious, and Derek rolled his eyes and said, “I’m training him, remember? He spends a lot of time with me and Isaac, and I’ve gotten to know them pretty well. The two of them actually have a lot of the same interests,” he added, giving him a wry look, “So you might want to rethink the scarf.”

Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, please. Don’t make me buy more stuff. Unlike you, my budget is limited. Like, really really limited.”

But he made a note of it anyway on his list, and then skipped a couple steps ahead so that he was in front of Derek and put a hand on his chest to stop him and said, “So, what about you, big guy? What do you want for Christmas?”

He noted that Derek’s eyes widened slightly, and if it had been anyone else, they might not have noticed his surprise, but Stiles noticed it and wondered what it meant.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then finally answered, “Uh…I don’t know. I mean, for me, having the pack is good enough. I don’t…I don’t really need anything.”

While Stiles found it incredibly endearing and adorably sweet, he rolled his eyes and said, “As sweet as that is, which it totally is, don’t get me wrong…I didn’t ask you if you needed anything; I asked you what you wanted. I mean, that’s a tall order, granted, considering the fact that you are loaded with money, have a perfect body, have a huge house, and a pack that completely and utterly adores you, even when you’re being a total grump, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not entitled to something fun and frivolous…”

At that, Derek chuckled and removed Stiles’ hand from his chest and said, “I’ll need to give it some thought,” but, again, Stiles felt like Derek was holding something back.

He decided not to push it, however, as he saw the slight tension in the older man’s jaw that told him that he was only a few words away from irritating him to death. Instead, he helped Derek put together his own list for the pack, and then they were off to the grocery store.

As soon as they were inside, Stiles couldn’t help but ask, “So, uh…why did Lydia beg me to get you out of the house? You being a grump again?”

Derek huffed and answered as he pulled out a cart from the front, “I didn’t exactly sleep well, so I was up kinda early and was working out--”

“Dude, you don’t need to work out,” Stiles interrupted, and Derek glared at him and finished, “--I was working out and dropped a weight. I woke up Lydia and she apparently can’t get back to sleep once she’s been woken up, so she’s been mad at me all morning for ruining her usual ten hours of sleep.”

Stiles snorted and nodded.

“Yep. That sounds like Lydia.”

The matter was dropped, and they started their heavy-duty grocery shop for Thanksgiving. Everything was going well, the two of them finding everything they needed for Thanksgiving, but when Derek started to reach for the frozen pies, Stiles slapped his hand away with an affronted look.

“Dude! We are not having frozen pie! This is Thanksgiving!”

“And I don’t bake,” Derek deadpanned back at him, once more reaching for the pie, but Stiles pulled his hand back a second time and scolded, “Maybe you don’t bake, sourwolf, but I do. Now, let me take us to the baking aisle, so you can see what real Polish desserts are all about. My grandmother taught me everything I know, and I’ll have you know that I am the best at it.”

Stiles felt smug as he led them to the right aisle, for once looking forward to cooking a pie and traditional Polish desserts for more than just himself and his dad.

He hadn’t actually had the chance over the past few holidays because there was usually some big and scary supernatural entity occupying their time, but now he had a unique chance to do something that he loved to do to show how much he cared about the people in his life: he would cook for them.

The rest of the shopping trip consisted of the two of them arguing over whether or not to get fresh ingredients, to whether they should get creamy or crunchy peanut butter (they ended up getting both), all the way to whether or not it was absolutely imperative that Stiles make the dough from scratch (he insisted that had to and finally managed to convince Derek to go along with it, so long as Derek was allowed to help choose which ingredients went into the faworkis; they picked blueberries and raspberries).

By the time they were back at the Jeep, Derek was carrying most of the bags while Stiles gave him an arched look as they put all the bags into the back, silently pointing out that taking the Jeep was the better idea, as there was no way that all of this would have fit in the cramped trunk of the Camaro.

As soon as they were home, they noticed that the pack was nowhere to be found.

Stiles read off the note that they’d taped to the fridge as Derek brought the bags into the kitchen.

““Got bored, headed to the lake to go for a swim. Be back whenever.” Gee, that’s real swell of them,” Stiles said, ripping it up, recognizing Scott’s handwriting. “How much you wanna bet that they scampered as soon as they heard the car on the road so that they wouldn’t have to help us with the groceries?”

Derek shot him a look as he brought in the last bag, to which Stiles replied, “Okay, fine, you brought in the groceries, but I’m the one who’s doing all the cooking, dude.”

At that, Derek countered, “I’m not completely inept in the kitchen, you know. I can handle a turkey and some stuffing.”

“Good,” Stiles shot back. “Then you can do the turkey and the stuffing. And I will somehow wrestle Liam and Isaac into helping with the potatoes, because I not going to peel all those potatoes by myself. Your pups can pull their weight in this little holiday endeavor.”

“What about the rest of the pack?” Derek asked, pulling out the food and putting it away. “You gonna wrangle them into helping, too?”

Stiles shook his head and remarked, “Nope. Scott can’t cook, for one, and for two, I know there is no way I am going to let them touch my food.” Derek arched an eyebrow at him. “Our food,” Stiles quickly corrected. “I just…I know that the rest of them have little to no self-control, besides maybe Allison and Lydia, but they’re not kitchen people. I have witnessed both of them burning food on multiple occasions. So,” he emphasized by waving around a frozen bag of vegetables, “I am going to take point on the cooking. And all the taste-testing, too.”

Derek seemed slightly amused by that.

Stiles brushed it off and decided to go ahead and start with laying out what he would need to make the dough for the faworkis. They would take a while to make, and it had been a few years since he’d made them, so he needed to brush up on his skills.

Derek threw a couple of frozen pizzas into the oven and not thirty minutes later, just as the pizzas were just coming out, they heard the thundering of steps on the front porch.

Pups were home.

Scott, Isaac, Liam, Boyd, and Jackson stumbled in first, still slightly damp and still in their swimming trunks, practically scrambling over each other to get to the pizza that Derek had put on the island, while Stiles watched in amusement as Derek tried to reprimand them, and then Allison, Erica, and Lydia came trailing behind them, the three of them completely dry and covered, and rolling their eyes at the boys. Just as they approached the counter, Stiles laughed as they all parted for Lydia, who deftly slipped between them and made enough space for the other two girls to slide in next to her, the three of them commandeering the stools, as well as forcing the guys to use the paper plates that Derek had put out for them.

They all started talking at once, and Stiles could tell that Derek was already getting a headache, so he quickly stepped in and shouted, “Yo! All of you shut it! You’re giving both of us a headache over here, only Derek’s too nice to say it. Too loud, capiché?”

Jackson merely snorted and rolled his eyes while Lydia arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, but everyone else looked properly reprimanded.

Derek then moved next to Stiles and said into his ear, “Thanks,” and Stiles shrugged and replied, “Anytime,” and patted his shoulder.

“Aww, look at that,” said Jackson from where he sat on the counter holding a slice of the meat lovers in one hand, “Mom and dad are co-parenting. It’s touching, really.”

Lydia pinched his knee and gave him another one of her signature looks and then said in a reassuring tone, though somehow still teasing them at the same time, “I think it’s sweet. Besides, they are the ones who made us dinner and are making Thanksgiving dinner, too, if I’m not mistaken,” she added, looking pointedly at the counter behind them that still had a few bags on the counter.

Liam looked up from his own food at that, gave a look at Boyd who was at his elbow, and then asked, “Wait, are you guys really making Thanksgiving dinner?”

Derek nodded, and Stiles said, “Derek’s doing the turkey and stuffing, and I’m doing the rest. Speaking of which, you and Isaac are helping me with the potatoes. I need someone to peel them, and you guys have the wolfie endurance for such an arduous task. And you’re the youngest.”

At his words, both Liam and Isaac groaned, but they didn’t put up a fight about it, and Stiles felt a small surge of confidence.

Things were falling into place.

Chapter 2 - Biting Off More Than He Could Chew...Literally and Figuratively

Okay, so maybe he had celebrated too soon, Stiles thought to himself as he scrambled to finish mashing the potatoes that Isaac and Liam had peeled for him. Dinner was supposed to be in ten hours, and though he had finished all of the vegetable dishes, he still had to finish the potatoes and then all of the faworkis, and he wasn’t sure that he could do it in time.

Derek already had the turkey all set up and ready to go and had premade the stuffing the night before and all it needed was to be reheated.

God, Stiles knew he shouldn’t have made such a big promise.

But he didn’t complain as he continued to mash the potatoes into oblivion, casting a quick glance over the recipe book, double checking that he had made enough for the entire pack. He had to practically quadrouple every recipe that said it could feed a family of six, because he knew how much each one of them really ate. And even though neither Allison nor Lydia were werewolves, he knew what they were like and knew that he had to make sure that there was enough food for them.

His shoulders were sore from all of the mashing, as he’d made an obscene amount of mashed potatoes, and he sighed in relief as he managed to finish mashing the last bowl. There were now five large bowls filled with mashed potatoes, and Stiles just prayed that it would be enough.

He threw it in the fridge and then turned his attention to the dessert. Faworkis. One of his favorite Polish desserts.

He pulled out the first bowl of dough that he had put into the fridge to rise and started to roll it out, and just as he started, Derek walked in.

He took a look around the kitchen and then said, “So…need some help?” and Stiles immediately answered, “Normally I would kick you out of the kitchen and not let you even touch them until I was finished with them, but right now, I could really use your help. Here,” he said, tossing an apron in Derek’s direction, “Put this on and take the other bowl of dough and just watch what I do and copy me, okay? I’ve got nine hours until they have to be done and I forgot how time consuming they can be.”

Derek seemed surprised but tied off the apron around his waist and Stiles couldn’t help but smile a little at seeing him in a bright green apron that said, “Kiss Me, I’m Irish”.

Stiles rolled out the dough and got to work, looking up every now and then to check on Derek.

At one point, he went over and gently adjusted Derek’s hands on the roller and said, “You’re doing good with pressure, but you need to keep it more even. Press down from the elbow through the wrist, not from the shoulders,” he corrected him, trying to ignore the faint heat that rose in his cheeks at feeling his hands fitting almost perfectly over the alpha’s.

Derek turned his head slightly, their mouths suddenly only an inch or two apart and breathed out, “Like this?”

Unable to trust himself to say anything, Stiles swallowed, nodded, and then quickly pulled back and went back to his side of the counter and proceeded to start to cut out the proper size pieces for rolling, the fruit in a bowl right next to him.

Derek followed his lead and Stiles smiled to himself as he saw him doing it almost expertly, easily picking up on what Stiles was doing. They didn’t say anything, but nothing needed to be said, and they had the background noises of the rest of the pack making a general ruckus around the house. Even though he didn’t have superhuman hearing like the rest of them, he could hear Erica and Isaac roughhousing in the living room, and the rest of the girls and Scott were just upstairs listening to some annoyingly peppy music.

He wasn’t sure about the rest of them, but it was enough to have him feeling a warmth in his chest at the domesticity of it all.

Of course, that was just wishful thinking on his part.

Stiles had had a crush on Derek for years, but he knew better than to think it was reciprocated. He knew that he was still part of the pack, but not quite the same as everyone else, he mused to himself as he grabbed the fruit and started to roll it inside the cut dough. He was an outlier of the pack, not really the same as the rest of them.

He knew that, and had been okay with it for a long time, but at the beginning of the year he’d thought that things were changing, and he remembered the last day that they’d worked together on the house--

--Derek rolled his eyes as he effortlessly lifted the massive front door and put it into place, saying, “You know, Stiles, you’re the only one who kept on showing up after the first week of renovations. This house is yours already,” but he shook his head and watched Derek’s shoulders bulge as he finally put the door down, and said, “Nah, not really. It’s for the pack, not me, big guy.”

The alpha shot him a look, his brow furrowed, but then shook his head and reached down and finished tightening the bolts and the hinges, making sure that everything was secure.

“I mean it. You’ve worked harder than any of them to make my house a home again.” He then stood back and up and moved over to Stiles’ side, putting a hand on his shoulder. “This is yours, too. Ours.”

He was taken aback by the sheer intensity and honesty in the man’s eyes, so Stiles licked his lips and swallowed.

“Uh…thanks? I think? I mean,” he quickly broke the tension, “If you’re just saying this to put my name on the deed and make me pay for utilities, nice try, Der.”

Derek chuckled, patted him one more time, and then turned and headed back into the house for the shop vac to clean up what was left of the sawdust on the first floor, and Stiles watched his back as he retreated, swallowing a second time, unsure of what Derek was trying to say, because it had felt like he was trying to say something without actually saying it.

By the time they were done cleaning the house, Derek seemed back to his old self and Stiles felt like they were once more where they had been when they had first started working on the house together. It was nice and reassuring and familiar…but then as they stood outside admiring the finished work, Derek shoved his shoulder against Stiles’, as if trying to throw him off balance, and Stiles shoved him right back, which, of course, had no effect, as he was completely immovable.

“Dude, what was that for?” he asked, rubbing his sore shoulder.

Derek shrugged.

“Dunno. Just felt like it.”

And then he gave him one of those almost, not-quite-a-smile looks, and Stiles just shook his head. He’d never understand why Derek did half the things he did, but he was glad that Derek thought of him as part of the pack, even though he hadn’t built him a room. Stiles was still a bit steamed about that.

Derek then said, “It’s yours and mine, Stiles. C’mon, let’s carve our names on the inside of the door, between the hinges,” and he walked back up the porch dragging Stiles by the wrist behind him, which he found slightly amusing. He followed him up to the door and watched as Derek opened it all the way and revealed where the hinges came together, and then popped a claw and carved his name, Derek James Hale. He then looked up at Stiles and arched an eyebrow and handed him a pocketknife. “Your turn.”

Stiles arched an eyebrow right back at him.

“You want my full name? Or just the abbreviation? Because if we’re talking full name, then you might wanna take a seat, it’s gonna be awhile,” and Derek just rolled his eyes at him.

“Just do it, Stiles.”

Grinning, he took the knife and managed to get his full name into the wood between two of the other hinges and smiled when he was done. Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski.

Derek came over and looked at it, and then took back his pocketknife and said, “Hope you didn’t wear down the blade,” and Stiles made a face at him, they both chuckled, and then Stiles was once more taken off guard when the alpha traced his fingers over where Stiles had carved his name. Not knowing why, Stiles did the same to Derek’s name.

And then Derek said, “There. It’s ours. Always will be.”

Stiles smiled. He could live with that.

He came back to himself when he heard a loud crash from the other room, and Derek shouting out to them, “Erica, did you break another coffee table?”

“…No?” she called back, and Derek let out a frustrated sigh, digging his fingers into his dough in the process and Stiles quickly admonished him.

“Hey, hey! Pay attention, sour wolf! Don’t ruin the dough!”

He pulled his fingers out and rerolled the dough flat and then recut it, and Stiles was pleased to see that he did all of it correctly, even though he’d only done it once before, and suddenly had an image of a young Derek helping his mom in the kitchen baking cookies. He thought about asking him, even opened his mouth to do so, but then thought better of it and went back to working on the faworkis. He knew better than to ruin a moment, and so he’d ask some other time.

By the time they’d finished rolling all of the pastries and Stiles had brushed melted butter over every single one of them, they could hear a movie playing in the other room, the Avengers theme music coming through the wall.

Derek rolled his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose and said, “How many times are they going to watch that movie?” and Stiles quickly answered, “Oh, c’mon, Der, you know it’s one of the best movies out there. Oh, wait, I forgot,” he added sarcastically, “You’re a luddite who prefers to read than watch movies.”

Derek gave him a less than intimidating glare and said, “Just because I prefer books, that doesn’t make me anti-technology, Stiles.”

He gave Derek an arched look.

“But it does make you a nerd.”

“Says the guy who has Lord of the Rings figurines on his desk.”

Stiles scoffed.

“That is entirely a different thing, man,” he said, leaning on the counter and rolling his head on his shoulders, and Derek gave him a look that he couldn’t quite identify, almost fond…but it couldn’t be. Derek wasn’t fond of him, he was irritated by him, and that’s how it had always been. “Everyone knows that Lord of the Rings is cool, they just don’t want to admit it.”

Derek just gave him another look with his eyebrows and Stiles gave him a look right back, waggling his eyebrows as comically as possible.

Derek conceded the silent argument.

Stiles grinned.

It was a week until Christmas, and Stiles was scrambling. He’d gotten everyone’s presents but he was still struggling, trying to figure out what the hell to get Derek, which is why he was currently tucked between Lydia and Allison on the couch at Derek’s house, his feet in Lydia’s lap and his head in Allison’s lap, where she was playing with his hair. Lydia was using his legs to rest her notebook on. And Stiles…well, he was complaining for everything that he was worth.

“I don’t know what the hell to do, guys. He is impossible to buy for,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. “He has plenty of money, a new house, and all of you guys here, too.”

Lydia ignored him, making some more notes on something that she was working on for some thinktank that she was working with over the internet, but Allison paused in running her fingers through his hair and said, “Yeah, he’s kinda hard to buy for. But Scott and I decided to get him a gift card for a bookstore he really likes in town.”

Luckily, Derek was out for the day.

Unluckily, he was stuck with Allison and Lydia, who were the only two people at the house who knew the least about their enigmatic pack leader.

Thanksgiving had been a success, luckily, and there weren’t any leftovers, though all of the faworkis had been eaten that same day. Stiles had been a bit irritated by that, but the pack had reassured him that it was only because they were so good, so he’d promised to also make them for Christmas and had already enlisted Derek’s help once more, as he’d decided that he was going to have to triple that recipe.

He had been comfortable over the holiday and a few days after it, but over the past couple of weeks, things had gotten odd between him and Derek and he didn’t know why.

Correction: he did know why, but he just didn’t like to admit it.

It was stupid feeling awkward and off-kilter all just because Derek was suddenly being nice to him.

He mentioned it aloud, saying, “Have you noticed that he’s been really nice to me, lately? Like, he didn’t take my head off when I threatened to put mistletoe up around the house,” he said gesturing towards the ceiling with one hand. “You would think that would garner at least some sort of reaction, right?”

Allison kept on running her fingers through his hair, and she said, “Yeah, well, maybe it’s the holidays? We’ve never all been together for Christmas before, so maybe he’s just…you know, getting into the Christmas spirit.”

Stiles noticed Lydia’s eyebrow arch and the corner of her mouth twitch and he looked up at Allison just in time to see her also trying to hide a smile, and his mind flashed back to the pack on the couch a few days before Thanksgiving, as well as to the day they had come back from their swim. It was the same look.

Okay, something was definitely going on.

Sitting up, ignoring Lydia’s cry of protest as he dragged his feet from her legs, he said, “Okay, you two are conspiring about something, and I wanna know what it is. I mean, what’s going on here with the smiles and the looks and the, you know, general weirdness?” he asked, feeling his heartrate skyrocket. “Because if there is something going on here about Derek, then I deserve to know!”

They exchanged a look and Stiles recognized the glare that Lydia sent in Allison’s direction and suddenly had the insight that he wouldn’t be getting any answers from them. He knew what Lydia’s resolve was like when it came down to keeping secrets, so he knew that he would get nothing out of her, and he was well aware of the fact that Allison was painfully loyal when it came to keeping secrets for the greater good, so he had the vague impression that he wouldn’t be able to get her to talk as well.

Feeling frustrated, his flung his arms up as he got up from the couch and said as he stalked angrily to the front door, “Fine! Be that way! Don’t help!” and nearly slammed the door behind him, but then thought better of it and instead carefully closed it.

He was still annoyed as he leaned back against the door, but he was also just confused. He didn’t know what to do with a nice Derek Hale, or what to buy for him.

Just two days before, they had all been at the house and Boyd had suggested that they all go for a run in the preserve…but then Derek had told them to go on ahead and then had offered to stay behind with Stiles.

The teen had noticed that Derek had made an excuse that he had to get some work done, and the pack had all just seemed to accept it, but Stiles knew better than they did and could tell, even without any superhuman abilities, that the alpha had been lying. He had then spent the entire afternoon with Stiles not really doing anything at all.

Stiles had messed around on his phone for most of the time while Derek had sat on the couch with a book, reading.

Huh. Maybe something to do with books wasn’t a bad idea, he mused, thinking of the fact that Allison had mentioned that she and Scott had given him a gift card for a bookstore, and the fact that all that Derek seemed to do in his free time was read. But it couldn’t be as generic as that, he knew that much. If he was going to get the now less-than-surly alpha a decent Christmas present, then it would have to be something that meant something to him. Something that said that he cared for him and that he was paying attention to him.

Stiles knew all too well what it was like to receive presents that were generic because the person giving them didn’t know you as well as they felt they should.

Unfortunately, that had been the habit for quite a few years after his mom had died when he’d gotten a slew of generic Christmas gifts from his dad, ranging from a painting kit to a football.

He didn’t take any of it personally, because he knew that his dad had been hurting during that time, but he also knew that his dad had been trying a lot harder in the past few years and he knew how it felt to get a gift that was so unexpected and perfect. Just last year, his dad had gifted him a leather jacket with rune protection in it that he’d found from a verified wicca online. Stiles knew that it must have set his dad back a pretty penny, and it was now something that he wore almost constantly.

He needed to do something like that for Derek.

Lifting his head from where he’d been leaning it back against the front door that he and Derek had installed, he let out a long sigh and looked out towards the preserve.

He was going to get him something special.

Chapter 3 - Erica Is Grounded and It Sucks for Everyone

“Dude, I totally took you down!” Liam yelled at Jackson as they all made their way from the back yard into the house, while Stiles rolled his eyes. The wrestling had gotten heated and Jackson had been distracted because of Lydia’s low-cut top…and so Liam had managed to take him down at that perfect moment.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” drawled Jackson, cuffing the younger pack member on the back of his head, but Stiles saw a slight twitch of the corner of his mouth and he knew that Jackson was pleased with the kid’s progress.

Erica, who trailed behind them, groaned and pouted like an irreverent ten-year-old.

“Oh, god, I don’t care who took who down, I’m just pissed that Derek has banned me from training until I go and help him pick out a new coffee table!”

Everyone started laughing at that, and Scott was laughing so hard he nearly dropped Allison, who was perched on his back, her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, while Isaac almost tripped over his own feet. Lydia was already back inside, along with Derek, and Stiles knew that Boyd was still sleeping up in the attic room. The man seemed to live for sleep, which Stiles completely understood, and seemed to be more nocturnal than the rest of them.

Unable to help himself, Stiles said, “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for destroying your third coffee table this year,” and she lowly growled in the back of her throat at him.

He brushed it off and as they all stepped inside, they heard Derek shout, “Showers! Everyone who was training. Now.”

He pulled back just in time to avoid the mass stampede as they all bolted up the stairs. Despite all of the improvements to the house, there were only four bathrooms in the entire house, but because no one was allowed to use Derek’s private bathroom, technically there were only three, and so it was obvious that they were all trying to get first dibs.

Stiles’ suspicions were confirmed when he suddenly heard Scott yell, “Erica, you cheated! And you didn’t even train, so what the hell?!”

He snorted and made his way to the living room, where he saw Derek sprawled over the couch, one hand behind his head, the other holding a book. He snuck a quick look at the cover and smiled to himself when he realized that it was “Call of the Wild” by Jack London. It was kind of adorable that he was reading that book out of all the books that he owned.

“So, where’s Lydia?” he asked, settling himself down at the other end of the couch, noticing how Derek automatically shifted his feet so that he would have room to sit.

“In the other room on the computer. I think she’s doing some sort of online meeting,” he muttered, turning a page using just his thumb, eyes still focused on the book. “Something to do with statistics and number theory, I think. I don’t know,” he admitted, “I wasn’t really paying attention when she told me…”

Stiles just nodded and took advantage of Derek’s distraction and looked him over.

He was wearing a dark brown sweater that was about a size too big for him, a feat in and of itself, and his jeans seemed to be just as soft, worn out around the knees and the thighs, going white on the thighs with a small hole forming of the left knee, the frayed edges revealing skin underneath, and Stiles had the sudden urge to reach out and poke at it, but he withheld the impulse, and instead just swallowed and nodded, trying to remember why he had come to talk to Derek in the first place.

“So, I hear that you’re taking Erica to find a new coffee table?” he finally said, breaking the silence, using his elbow to gently jostle the man’s shin, and Derek nodded.

“Yep.”

Oh boy, an entire syllable.

He shoved Derek’s legs a bit harder, causing him to look up from his book, and then said, “Mind if I come with you guys? I don’t think I can take much more chaotic wolfie energy, today,” Stiles explained, giving him a look that he hoped looked begging enough. As much as he loved the pack, they could get to him rather badly sometimes.

Derek seemed pleased at his question and nodded and said, “Yeah, sure, not at all. Just, uh…let me finish these next couple chapters first?” He motioned with the book in his hand. “They’re gonna take a while getting clean, anyway,” he explained, tilting his chin toward the ceiling, “And it just so happens this is my favorite book.”

At that, Stiles arched his eyebrow and couldn’t help but say, “Favorite book? Are you serious? Could you be any more of a cliché right now?”, to which Derek rolled his eyes and playfully kicked at him with his foot, hitting his thigh, and said, “Hey, shut up. My mom used to read it to me as a kid and I, you know…I kind of fell in love with it.” He went a bit quiet and Stiles suddenly felt like an ass for making fun of him, but then Derek reassured him with, “Don’t worry, I know I’m a walking cliché. By the way, did Liam really get the drop on Jackson?”

Stiles nodded and grinned.

“Yeah, sure did. Of course, it helped that mister douche was distracted by the stunning decolletage of his girlfriend who was on the back porch at the time,” he lilted, tilting his head slightly and shooting a smirk in Derek’s direction.

The alpha chuckled, the two of them shared an amused look, and then Derek went back to reading.

Derek was right, Stiles thought to himself a little while later, realizing that it was taking the pack a long time to all get their showers. He stretched his neck and reached down and absently rubbed at Derek’s shins, which were currently draped over his thighs. It should have been awkward, but Stiles was used to the physical closeness of the rest of the pack, because they were always draping themselves over each other in completely platonic ways, even Jackson did it with him, and he thought nothing of it. Derek hadn’t done it up to this point, so far, but Stiles just chalked it up to the fact that Derek was finally relaxed for once and not thinking about it.

He adjusted himself on the couch and then closed his eyes, deciding that he might as well get a nap in while he could.

He didn’t know how long it lasted, but he heard a snort and what sounded like muffled laughter come from the entryway that separated the living room from the front foyer, and he opened his eyes and saw Erica standing there, fully dressed, smirking as she obviously took a picture with her phone.

“Oh, this is totally going into my blackmail folder,” she crowed, looking far too pleased with herself.

Confused, Stiles tried to figure out what she meant…and then realized that Derek had fallen asleep, his book across his chest, hand still tucked behind his head, his lower legs draped over Stiles’ thighs, and Stiles had been asleep as well, and he flushed, feeling the heat of embarrassment, but at the same time, he desperately wanted a copy of her photo.

Instead of snapping at her, he patted Derek’s calf and said, “Wake up, big guy. Time to go buy some furniture.”

Stiles had fully expected Derek to startle awake, so was pleasantly surprised when the alpha slowly came to, blinking and turning his head and then reaching both arms above his head and stretching, his sweater riding up and revealing a dark trail of hair that lead in a perfect line under his jeans.

Stiles ripped his eyes away.

“Okay, time to go shopping,” Derek said as he swung his legs down from Stiles lap as if it was nothing. “Stiles, you still coming?”

He swallowed and nodded. Yep. He was definitely doing some version of that word.

Shopping was hilariously awkward as they wandered through the furniture store looking like the three weirdest roommates ever trying to pick out a new coffee table.

Erica was wearing her usual leather mini skirt and jacket, along with her knee high boots, and was popping gum as she walked, acting for all the world like an irritated teenager-which she was-but Stiles could tell how disorienting it had to look when Derek was wearing sensible shoes, jeans, a t-shirt, and a cowled sweater with large buttons up the front, and Stiles was wearing his torn jeans, a shirt that was size too-small with a pink hippo on the front and a purple hoodie. Laundry day.

They walked through the store talking about what they wanted: Erica wanted something fun and modern, whereas Derek was trying to make sure that it matched the rest of the pieces in the house. Stiles’ only criteria was that it could withstand the roughhousing of werewolves in the living room.

“How about this one?” said Erica, bouncing on her toes and gesturing to a garish red and orange modern monstrosity, popping another bubble and arching an eyebrow, and at this point Stiles felt that she was picking out the worst pieces just to see Derek’s reactions to them.

He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest and growled, “Erica, at this point I think you’re just trying to piss me off.”

She grinned back at him, unrepentant, chewed her gum loudly, and then shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket, stuck her tongue out at him, and said, “Yes, that is exactly what I am doing, mister grumpy cat,” and Stiles couldn’t help but snort at that. Ever since they’d found that meme, Erica had delighted in teasing the older man with it. “I am sorry that I destroyed the coffee table, but did you have to punish me by taking me furniture shopping? I mean, I like shopping, but not this kind!”

Stiles could see Derek was about to say something that he was going to regret, so quickly cut him off and said, “Erica, c’mon, give the guy a break! Besides,” he added, “You know that it was your fault, so you might as well try and make it a little bit easier on him…”

She looked about to argue, stamping one of her heeled boots against the floor like a five-year-old about to have a temper tantrum…but then she rolled her eyes.

“Ugh…fine. Fine. I’ll take this more seriously, promise.”

Stiles shot a look over at Derek, who seemed less tense than before and smiled when Derek said, “Thank you. Now, since we’re having trouble finding one, why don’t we just ask one of the employees to help us find what we’re looking for?” She opened her mouth to protest, and Derek cut her off with, “Please, Erica. I don’t want to be doing this any more than you do.”

Stiles looked between the two of them, unsure if he was needed to mediate again, but let out a sigh of relief when she nodded and relented.

They looked around and sighed in relief when an employee approached them, as if sensing their distress, and the young woman said, “You look like you could use some help. Hi, I’m Liz,” she said, reaching out and shaking each of their hands, “And I’ve seen you look at several pieces already,” she admitted, looking slightly embarrassed, tucking a strand of hair behind her air, “But I’m pretty sure I know what you’re looking for. Something that fits with a craftsman style, but also caters to a modern aesthetic. And sturdy.”

Liz started walking and they followed after her. She then turned a corner and gestured with a hand.

“Something like this?”

Stiles looked at it. Solid legs and a thick top, which meant that it should hold up to the pack’s shenanigans.

He glanced over at Derek and Erica…and was pleased to seem them both nodding, and then Derek said, “We’ll take it,” and the sound he let out afterwards had Stiles walking over to him and nudging him with his shoulder, saying, “That bad, huh?” and Derek muttered back at him, “If I have to spend five more minutes in here, I am going to strangle her,” and Stiles laughed and absently reached up and squeezed his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, big guy,” he said, squeezing it a second time, not noticing the soft look Derek gave him as he slid his hand from his shoulder and turned back to Erica.

By the time they had paid for it, gotten it into the back of the truck that he’d borrowed from Peter, and gotten it home, Erica was antsy once more, looking as though she was about to explode from the car. As soon as the car slid to a stop outside the front door, she had bolted out of the back seat, and Derek yelled after her, “You break one more piece of furniture you forfeit Stiles’ faworkis for Christmas dinner!” and Stiles laughed when he saw her nearly trip over the top step as she tried to suddenly drop her speed.

Stiles then said, “I find it rather amusing that you threatened her with taking away my dessert,” to which Derek tilted his head and said, “Uh, I’m pretty sure that I made them, too.”

“Then why’d you call them mine?”

At that, he could have sworn that he saw a faint pink tinge to the man’s cheeks but was quickly distracted by Derek asking for his help in taking the coffee table out of the back of the borrowed truck. Derek held the brunt of the weight, angling down and back, and though Stiles wasn’t a werewolf, he was no slouch and easily helped him get it out of the back…but just as they maneuvered it to put it down, it slipped off the edge--

--and then it was falling down on top of him.

Just as it was about to hit him dead-on, Derek was there with his superhuman speed and stopped it from landing with it’s full weight with just one hand, the other hand on Stiles’ shoulder, moving him out of the way just in time. For a moment, he was shocked…and then Stiles giggled.

“Oh my god,” he said, falling even further into his laughter, “You just pulled a Twilight on me!”

Derek gave him a confused look, his brow furrowed in a way that was practically adorable, and Stiles explained, “You did what Edward does to save Bella in the very first book and movie, you know, with the car in the parking lot?”

…and then he kept on giggling, laying down on his back while Derek rolled his eyes and got the rest of the coffee table off the truck by himself.

Eventually, Stiles calmed down and said as he stood and wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, “My god, I can’t wait to tell the pack about this,” and Derek glared.

“Don’t you dare,” the alpha managed to get out in a tight voice, but it didn’t hold the usual biting tone, so Stiles knew that he could probably get away with telling the pack if he really wanted to, but he knew that he wouldn’t embarrass him that way.

Instead, he walked over and helped Derek take the table in through the front door, and as they put into place in front of the television, Liam and Isaac came in and immediately collapsed on the couch and put their feet up on it as they grabbed their gaming controllers and turned on the tv, while both Derek and Stiles gave them identical looks of annoyance.

And then they heard Lydia’s voice from the doorway, “My god, it’s like you’ve turned into our parents,” and Stiles looked up just in time to see her smirk and walk out of the room towards the kitchen.

Stiles rolled his eyes and stood up.

He shared a quick look with Derek, who gave him a faint smile in return, and felt a warm feeling in his chest. He didn’t really mind the comparison, to be honest.

It was the eve of Christmas Eve and Stiles was pleased with all of the presents that he’d managed to get under the tree that Jackson, Scott, and Boyd had hauled into the house. Okay, so it had been mostly Boyd, but he felt it was only fair to include the other two, as well, considering how much they had been pouting at not being asked to participate in any of the Christmas preparations. Derek had only reluctantly let them go and pick out and cut down the tree with Boyd because Stiles had pointed it out to him that they felt left out.

“Because they cause disaster, Stiles,” Derek had argued with him. “I’ve never met two people who attract more problems than they do!”

Stiles had immediately countered with, “Then let’s use that destructive tendency to help get us a good tree!”

Derek had conceded, and now Stiles was pleased to see that Liam had taken the initiative to decorate the tree, wrangling in Allison and Erica, as well as Isaac, to help him. Erica was sitting on the floor with Allison, who was stringing popcorn…while Erica kept on eating the pieces.

“Stop it!” Allison reprimanded, batting at the blonde’s hand, giving her a hard look. “I’m working really hard at this! Do you think that you could not eat the decorations?”

Erica playfully nudged her back, but stopped momentarily, though still sneaking a bite or two, while Isaac and Liam were busy placing ornaments on the tree. Stiles lounged on the couch, tired after dealing with the last of the decorations on the front porch. He watched them with a fond look and cast a casual glance at the ornaments they were using. He’d never seen them before, but it was obvious that they weren’t new.

Curious, he asked, “Hey, where’d you get those?”

“We found them down in the storage section of the basement, in the section that wasn’t burned,” Liam answered. “I think they used to be the Hale’s family ornaments. We thought it would be nice for Derek,” he added with a slightly unsure smile, and Stiles gave him a nod and said, “That’s a nice thought.”

As if he’d just given them permission, the two of them started putting on the ornaments more quickly and Erica had finally stopped eating the popcorn. Boyd was upstairs napping again, Scott and Jackson were out in the back, training, Lydia was upstairs on some sort of conference call with her thinktank, again, and Derek was back in the living room, once more, reading. As he thought of Derek, he smiled to himself thinking about the gift he’d gotten for him that he’d hidden under the tree. It had been a bit tricky to find and it had only showed up the day before. He’d managed to hide it from everyone and wrapped it up in festive green and gold wrapping paper and couldn’t wait to see the alpha unwrap it.

Isaac had put on some sort of Christmas playlist from the Spotify app on his phone and the faint music was enough to eventually lull him into a light doze, where he wasn’t really asleep, but he wasn’t awake, either, and it felt surprisingly pleasant and relaxed.

However, just as he started to drift from his light doze into an actual sleep, Derek’s voice rang out.

“Going out for a bit, guys. Don’t call me for anything!” he shouted, so that the entire house could hear him, as well as Scott and Jackson out back, and then the front door slammed behind him.

Stiles sat up and looked at the door, trying to figure out what was going on. Derek had been doing that off and on for the past few weeks, and he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. The alpha had been leaving the house at around four in the afternoon between two to three times a week, but never on the same days, and he hadn’t told anyone about what he was doing.

Stiles was pretty sure that no one had asked him because they knew that he would just glare at them and not give them an answer.

No one else seemed bothered by it, so he ignored it for the time being and instead decided that he would start on some of the food for Christmas dinner, as well as the faworkis for dessert. This time, he’d also gotten everything he needed for making szarlotka, piernik, and makowiec. He’d shown the recipes to Derek and then the girls had come into the room, seen the pictures, and insisted that Stiles make all of them for Christmas. Normally he would have complained, but he was actually enjoying baking for people that would appreciate it.

Within a few hours, the entire house was smelling like almonds, honey, and oranges as he had the first batch of makowiec in the top oven. Members of the pack had kept on trying to come in and steal bits and pieces of the dough as he was working, and he’d had to chase them all off with the threat of slipping mistletoe into their food.

When Derek came home, however, he sidled up right next to Stiles in the kitchen and practically put his head on Stiles’ shoulder as he stirred a batch of piernik in a bowl and said, “It all smells really good. I could smell it as soon as I turned off the main road,” and Stiles withheld a shiver at the breath that brushed across his jaw and cheek.

“You, uh…wanna try a bite?” he asked, licking his lips, and Derek nodded.

“Yeah, sure.”

Stiles lifted his hand, holding the spoon up high enough for Derek to grab, but was taken aback when he just leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the end of the spoon, and seemed to take entirely far too long before letting go of it with a slight pop. He then chewed a moment, swallowed, and said, “That tastes just as good as it smells. What is it…ginger?”

Stiles nodded, swallowing around his suddenly dry throat, and the alpha nodded and then lightly tapped his shoulder with his hand.

“Hope you’re making enough.”

At that, Stiles came out of his odd trance and scoffed and said, “But of course, sourwolf. I haven’t baked this much in years, and I’m actually really liking the excuse to make as much as I want, knowing that it won’t go to waste. It’s nice keeping up an old family tradition,” he remarked, and saw Derek’s eyes go slightly dark at his words.

The older man then nodded a second time and let out an odd sigh as he said, “Yeah. Tradition,” and then walked out of the kitchen, into the living room.

And then Stiles heard him gasp.

Quickly, he grabbed a hand towel and headed for the living room, wiping off his hands as he walked through the door, and then saw why Derek had reacted the way that he had: the tree was fully decorated with popcorn, lights, and ornaments on almost every branch, along with a beautifully hand-made paper mâché star perched firmly on top of it, as well as a few more presents under its branches.

“Oh, yeah, they pulled out some decorations from the attic,” Stiles said, walking up until he was shoulder to shoulder with the taciturn alpha. “Erica kept on eating the popcorn, so it took them a little bit longer than expected, but I think it came out pretty good, don’t you?” he said, gently nudging him in the side with his elbow, wondering why Derek was still so quiet, but when he turned his head to look at him, he saw his eye’s were glistening, like he was holding back tears.

“Der? Are you okay?” he quickly asked, throwing the towel over his shoulder, and reaching out to him.

Derek shook his head, one tear escaping, which he quickly reached up to wipe away with his thumb, and said, “Sorry, I just…I haven’t seen those ornaments since…since the last Christmas before the fire. I didn’t know that so many of them had survived. I just…I assumed they hadn’t.”

“Liam said they found them in a part of the basement that had been untouched,” he explained, and Derek nodded.

“I, uh…I guess that makes sense,” he managed to get out, his voice still sounding tight. “I just…I haven’t really celebrated Christmas for the past few years. Not since, you know…”

His voice drifted and Stiles nodded, knowing that he was referring to the fire. The two of them stood there for a long while, enjoying the sight, and Stiles knew that Derek was probably going through a gamut of emotions. He had a lot of memories, most of them bad, that surrounded the holiday, though Stiles hoped that this year would be the year of changing his mind about how he felt about it. Especially with the gift that he had picked out for him, Stiles thought to himself.

He snuck a glance at the alpha’s profile.

He wasn’t crying anymore, and his serious expression had softened into something more thoughtful and reflective. Stiles wondered what he was thinking about and thought about asking but decided against it and simply stood there with him.

The silence, along with the smell of pastries floating through the house, made it a moment that Stiles knew he would remember.

Chapter 4 - What It Looks Like When You Don't Know How to Give Presents

The next day, Christmas Eve, the entire pack was outside making a mess of themselves.

It had unexpectedly snowed last night, dropping a solid eight inches of powder, and so the pack was taking full advantage of it…and it was hilarious. Stiles was glad that he had his phone out because he was getting golden footage of them going after each other in some of the most unexpected ways.

Stiles laughed as Allison nailed Boyd in the face with a snowball and Lydia managed to surprise Scott and dump a handful of snow down the back of his sweater.

Derek was up on the porch with him, a mug of hot chocolate in his hands, watching the spectacle with an arched eyebrow and giving Stiles an amused side-eye as he continued to take video, as well as the occasional picture.

“Dude! What the hell was that?” barked out Jackson as Isaac nailed him in the neck with a snowball.

“It’s called payback for stealing my game last night!” he barked back at him, but then Isaac was tackled from behind by Erica, who seemed to be trying to tackle everyone, and had already gotten to Liam, Scott, Allison, Lydia, and now Isaac. She only had Jackson and Boyd to go, but Stiles had the sneaking suspicion that she wouldn’t be able to get the drop on her boyfriend, who seemed to be rolling his eyes each time she got the drop on someone new, while looking fondly at her at the same time.

Scott kept on yelling up at Stiles.

“Seriously, man! Put down the phone and get down here!” he yelled for probably the fourth time, but Stiles rolled his eyes and shouted back at him, “Dude, no! One, I don’t have my winter gear with me, and two, unlike the rest of you, excluding Allison and Lydia, of course, you all have wolfie powers and I’m not planning on getting my ass handed to me!”

Scott groaned, but then was suddenly tackled for the second time by Erica who had used the distraction of the two of them yelling to sneak up on him again and faceplant him in the snow, sprawled over his back, and she howled out her victory.

Stiles then noticed that all the wolves were wearing were long pants and t-shirts, versus the two girls who were bundled up in boots, leggings, and thick winter coats, hats, and gloves.

The disparity was rather amusing, but Stiles also found it interesting as he saw the snow melting on their arms and faces almost immediately. He tended to forget just how warm the rest of the wolves ran, and that had him glancing back over at Derek, who was lounging on the porch swing in his jeans, thick slippers, and, once more, his brown sweater. He wondered how cold the man really was, and if the sweater was really necessary for him.

“Hey, there, Der…you actually cold?” he asked, moving over to sit next to him, and Derek moved over slightly, giving him more room.

The alpha shrugged.

“Not really, but I’m not like the rest of them. I was born a wolf so I actually handle the winters better than they will. Trust me when I say that they’ll be freezing their asses off in about ten minutes, whereas I’m going to be at a perfectly maintained temperature,” he said with an amused tilt of his brow. “The rest of the winter you’re going to see them going from one extreme to the next. It’s tricky learning how to maintain a proper body heat with our accelerated metabolisms.”

Stiles nodded and couldn’t help but scoot closer, feeling the faint heat coming off of him, unable to keep himself from gravitating towards it.

Derek seemed to notice, because he adjusted his position so that his thigh was pressed firmly up against Stiles’ thigh, and Stiles unabashedly leaned into it…and then on impulse, he laid his head down on the alpha’s shoulder. He felt Derek tense for a moment, but then he completely relaxed.

“So…you’re snuggling me for the body heat?” Derek said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate and Stiles nodded.

“Yep. I’m a poor, helpless, cold human who is very cold but also very stubborn. I don’t want to go back inside to get a jacket,” he explained, “And since you’re a walking furnace, I might as well take advantage.”

Derek nodded, took another sip of his drink, swallowed, and then said, sounding amused, “This wouldn’t also have anything to do with using me as a shield to keep Erica from dragging you off the porch and tackling you in the snow would it?”

Stiles shook his head, flat out denying it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sourwolf.”

Derek just shook his head.

Luckily, he was right, and the rest of the pack was clambering up the stairs only ten minutes later, all of them shivering except for Boyd, and Lydia and Allison were the only ones out in the snow, and they had found an unmarred patch of snow and were making snow angels.

As the rest of them thundered into the house, Derek shouted, “Towels are just inside the door! Use them or I’ll have you mopping up your own mess!” and Stiles snorted when heard a chorus of groans and then several thuds as they jostled to get to the towels on the rack next to the front door.

Stiles moved his head from Derek’s shoulder and gave him a look and said, “My god, you are such a dad,” to which Derek rolled his eyes.

“I’m really not,” he said wearily, rolling his head on his neck, and Stiles shook his head.

“Nope. You’re really not convincing me. In fact,” he poked his arm, “You just did a classic dad move. You threatened them with more chores if they didn’t do what you asked them to. Only dads do that, man, trust me. My dad tried to pull that trick on me so many times. Didn’t really work in my case,” he begrudgingly admitted, “But that’s my fault, not his.”

Derek turned to look at him, their eyes locking…and then he asked him in a surprisingly soft voice, “Is…is being like a dad a bad thing?”

Stiles quickly reassured him.

“Dude, no! Not a bad thing at all, man.” He reached back over and patted him on the thigh. “If anything, it just proves to me that you’re a good alpha and know how to take care of your pack. Besides,” he added with a smug grin, “They listen to you, don’t they? And it’s not because of the threats, Der, it’s because they want to. They all look up to you, Derek. All of them. Even Jackson.”

At that, Derek chuckled and stretched his arms out in front of him, above his head, and then dropped them back down to his sides, his fingers curling around the edge of the porch swing and then levelled his eyes with Stiles’. He was disoriented for a moment, but then the man smiled.

“You know, this house wouldn’t have been finished without your help,” he said, sounding so sincere it threw Stiles off balance. “Thank you.”

Stiles nodded and swallowed.

“Yeah, no problem man. I enjoyed it, you know? You deserve to have a home again,” he hesitantly added, unsure if those were the right words, but they seemed to be, because Derek gave him another one of those smiles and nodded and then stood up and said, “C’mon, I know you still have to finish the desserts for tomorrow night. I’ll help.”

And they went back inside, Stiles certain that at one point he felt Derek’s fingers brush against his lower back…

Christmas morning was chaos.

Luckily, Derek had mandated that every single one of them had to wait for the entire pack to be there before they could start handing out presents. Stiles was still worn out from Christmas Eve, however, and had purposely stayed in bed until he absolutely had to get out of it and go downstairs. He’d stolen Isaac and Liam’s room, specifically Liam’s bed for the night, and Liam had spent the night in Lydia and Jackson’s room, while Isaac had been in Scott and Allison’s room.

When he finally dragged himself downstairs, he was pleased to see that he wasn’t the last one down. It looked like Boyd and Erica were still up in their room, which meant that he could join everyone else in opening their stockings. Speaking of stockings, the contents were strewn all over the rug and wooden floor, each one of them already eating pieces of chocolate, while Allison and Lydia were trading body lotions and sniffing each other’s wrists.

Stiles grabbed his knitted orange stocking and was surprised at the weight of it. He decided to join Derek on the couch, who looked like he was already worn out, and dig through it there.

Not thinking about it, he sat right next to the alpha, whose blue stocking laid between his thighs, ignoring the fact that there was still plenty of empty space where he could have chosen to sit.

He dug his fingers into the sock and the first thing he pulled out was a dark chocolate orange. Hell yes. He grinned like an idiot, wondering who had given it to him, and then pulled everything else out. There was an obscene amount of dark chocolate, milk chocolate, and some skittles and starbursts, as well. But there was something shoved into the toe. Something heavy.

He finally managed to get it out…and stared at it, trying to figure out what it could be. It was wrapped in plain, brown paper, with twine tied around it in a quaint little bow.

As he stared at it, he noticed Derek shifting next to him, and his eyes giving him a sideways glance.

Feeling like a little kid, Stiles shook it.

He shook it a couple more times, and then Derek rolled his eyes and said, “Okay, now you’re just making fun of it. C’mon, open it up. You’re allowed to, it was in your stocking,” he reasoned, and Stiles suddenly knew that whatever it was, it was definitely from the alpha, so he reluctantly tugged on the string and then carefully opened up the sides.

The rest of the pack was ignoring them, far too engrossed in their candy.

Stiles pulled off the paper and found a small box inside that looked suspiciously like a jewelry box. Okay, what the hell had Derek gotten him and why had he put it in his stocking and why was it in a jewelry box? Feeling a little bit weirded out, but also having sudden, inexplicable butterflies in his stomach, he flicked open the lock on the small box…and was slightly confused when he saw a simple key resting in the center of the box on a military chain. He lifted it from the box, took a long careful look at it, and then looked over at Derek.

“Uh…am I supposed to know what this is?” he asked, and Derek licked his lips.

He then answered, “It’s a key.”

“I see that, I’m not an idiot, Der. But what’s it to?” He waved it in front of his face. “Is it the key to life, the universe, and everything? Because that would be cool, you know,” and Derek rolled his eyes and drawled, “Just…look at what it says, you idiot.”

Confused, Stiles brought it up to his face for closer inspection and saw faint writing on one side of it that simply read ‘Our Room’. And he was even more confused.

He looked back up at Derek and gave him another befuddled look, but just as he opened his mouth to ask another question, Erica and Boyd finally walked in, Erica looking pissed that she was awake, running a hand over her face while Boyd looked like he was holding her by the waist just to make sure that she didn’t fall over, and everyone cheered, Scott yelling, “You made it!”

Liam was the first to say, “Thank god, now we can open presents,” and he lunged for the brightly wrapped packages under the tree and then it was chaos all over again as the presents were doled out.

Stiles was happy with what he got over all: a sweater from Lydia and Jackson, a new pair of slippers from Allison and Scott, a new PS4 game from Isaac, an online gift card from Boyd and Erica to his favorite, uh…adult toy store (thank you, Erica), and a rune pendant on a leather cord from Liam. Though nothing from Derek. He watched as they all opened their presents and was pleased when everyone seemed to have liked what he had gotten them…but he snuck a look over at Derek, who was still next to him on the couch, even though everyone else was on the floor except for the two of them, and noticed Derek was taking a lot longer with his gifts than anyone else because he was, like Stiles, watching everyone else.

It was almost painfully slow to watch when Derek finally opened each of his presents, as if he’d been waiting for everyone to be distracted by their own presents so they wouldn’t make a big deal out of his. Stiles was slightly disappointed in what most of the pack had given their leader.

He saw a pair of thick socks, the gift card that Allison had mentioned, a couple more gift cards, and a deep green scarf that was much nicer than anything else, and Stiles had a hunch that the scarf was from Lydia.

He noticed that Derek had saved his gift for last and he nervously licked his lips, biting at his lower one, unsure of how he would react to it.

Derek took just as much time unwrapping Stiles’ gift as he had the others…but Stiles smiled when he saw the slight sharp intake of breath as he saw the first glimpse of the title. And then he was taken off guard when Derek suddenly ripped the rest of the wrapping off and stared at it with wide eyes.

“This…this is…” He flipped the leather-bound book open to the first page. “A first edition?” he gasped out. “How…how the hell did you…?”

He left his question unfinished, moving his eyes up to lock onto Stiles’, mouth gaping, as if trying to find the right words, and so Stiles put him out of his misery and said, “I, uh, I used my prodigious researching skills to scour the internet and found a warlock willing to trade. He had an extensive book collection, I had some information from our bestiary he needed, so we, uh…did a trade. You, uh, you like it?” he asked, suddenly feeling shy, reaching up and running a hand through the back of his hair.

Derek nodded, obviously still unable to speak.

Lydia, of course, heard the words ‘first-edition’, and piped up, “First-edition of what? Oooh, looks expensive,” she leered, rising to her knees and leaning over to see the book in Derek’s hands.

Finally, Derek said, “It’s a first-edition, leather bound copy of Jack London’s ‘Call of the Wild’…it’s next to impossible to find anywhere. I know because I’ve looked,” he finished softly, tracing his fingers almost reverently over the embossed cover and Stiles felt a surge of confidence at seeing how happy Derek was with the gift he’d picked out for him.

“I’m just glad that you like it,” he said, and Derek looked back up at him and Stiles was taken aback by the sheer amount of emotion in his usually unreadable eyes.

Derek then nodded.

“I love it, Stiles. It’s perfect.”

He reached out with his free hand and wrapped it around the back of Stiles’ neck, like he would with one of the members of the pack, and the heat from his hand went straight through him, and Stiles felt like he had to catch his breath when Derek lightly squeezed, his thumb curling around to graze along Stiles’ jaw.

“Thank you, Stiles,” he breathed out, and he nodded back at him and said, “You’re welcome, Der.”

At that moment, all that he could feel was the two of them…but then the stillness was broken with Isaac groaning from his position on the floor next to the tree, saying, “God, please tell me that we already have breakfast food, because I am freaking starving,” and at that, simultaneously Derek dropped his hand and Allison reached down and patted Isaac’s shoulder and said, “Stiles made szarlotka, and we also have some pre-made cinnamon rolls,” and with that the entire pack seemed to move as one towards the kitchen, leaving Stiles and Derek behind.

Lydia, Allison, and Erica all threw him similar looks over their shoulders before disappearing into the kitchen, however, and Stiles wondered what that was all about. He ignored it, however, and instead turned back to Derek, who had gone back to admiring the book, gently thumbing through the pages and looking at the hand-colored illustrations.

“So, uh…care to explain the key thing, now?” Stiles hesitantly asked, and Derek looked up at him and swallowed.

“Uh, I thought it was kind of obvious,” he answered, looking confused himself.

Stiles shook his head and pulled the key back out of the box and said, “Not really. It just says ‘our room’ on the back of it and I don’t really know what that means. Did you have an extra room put onto the house for me and dad or something? Because I’m at a loss here…”

Derek shook his head.

“No, it’s…it’s a key to our room, Stiles. I’m finally making it official. I mean, after everything that’s happened, it seems only fair,” he said, acting as if he was explaining everything, while Stiles was still completely in the dark to what he was talking about.

Stiles was now the one shaking his head as he said, “Derek, I still don’t know what you’re talking about! Believe me, if I did, I wouldn’t be asking you all these questions! What the hell do you mean by “our” room? Why are you using phrases like ‘after everything’s that’s happened’, Der? I, god, I wish I knew what you were talking about, but I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me, because I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about!”

Derek slowly stood, his eyes wide, book in one hand, and then he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

Finally, he said, “When we carved our names into the door. This house. It’s ours. It has been since we finished it, Stiles. I was waiting until I finished the arrangements to the room before I asked you to move in. I thought that because of how I’ve been around you the past few months…I thought you knew that…that…”

He didn’t finish the sentence and to Stiles it looked like he was trying to catch his breath, almost on the verge of an anxiety attack. He didn’t like being in the dark, but he disliked being the person who made Derek so upset, so he tried to put it all together. Okay, they’d finished the house together, marked their names in the door, Derek had been separating himself from the pack, had been spending more time with Stiles, had been treating him like an equal, he’d been letting Stiles lean against him, had been spending time with him in the kitchen and learning about stuff that Stiles liked to do, he’d been…oh.

Oh.

Stiles suddenly felt like he couldn’t catch his own breath, and slowly stood, key still in hand, took a step closer to Derek and said, “Wait, are you telling me that ever since we finished the house together, you’ve been…courting me or something?”

Derek nodded and breathed out, “I thought you knew. I mean, you helped me take down the old door, the one that had my mom and dad’s names carved into the side, and so I thought, I thought that you knew exactly what it meant when we…when we did it, too. I don’t want anyone else by my side but you, Stiles. I never have.” He reached out and cupped Stiles’ face, drawing him one step closer to him. “I finished my room so that it would be our room,” he explained, his other hand going to Stiles’ hand that still held the key. “This is for you. It’s not my room, it’s our room, it was always meant to be our room…”

He thought he was about to faint and swayed into Derek’s touch and that caused him to suddenly step right into him, their bodies barely an inch apart, Derek’s arms supporting him as best he could, and Stiles dropped his forehead to Derek’s shoulder and muttered into his clavicle, “I fell in love with an idiot,” to which Derek snorted and patted him gently on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well, so did I, apparently.”

And at that, Stiles lifted his head from the alpha’s shoulder and caught his eyes with his own.

They stared at each other for a long time. Derek’s fingers played with the hair at the back of Stiles’ neck and Stiles hand now rested on the older man’s side. He didn’t know how long they stood there, but he didn’t want to move because it felt like a moment that he didn’t want to leave.

Unsure of what to say, he decided to say nothing.

And then Derek tilted his chin up with a single finger and suddenly their lips were touching, and Stiles was wondering why the hell they hadn’t ever done it before, because it was goddamn perfect. He moaned into the kiss, moving his hand so that it wrapped around the back of Derek’s neck and slid his fingers up into the alpha’s hair, letting out a low groan when he suddenly bit down onto Stiles’ lower lip. Ah, that was good. More than good.

He sunk into it for a while longer, both of them teasing the other, their tongues briefly flicking out to taste the other’s lips, as if not quite sure if they were ready to take it any further, but then Derek slid his hands down to Stiles’ waist and tugged him closer and, wow. Yeah. There was definitely something more there.

Stiles’ hips stuttered in his grasp and he pulled back to gasp for air and said, “Okay, so, uh, yeah…that happened,” and Derek let out a gasping chuckle and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Stiles’ mouth and said, “So, breakfast first and then spend the day up in our room? Or room first and then food?”

“Food first,” he answered without hesitation.

Derek arched an eyebrow at him and Stiles quickly explained, “If we don’t eat now, we’ll starve, because trust me when I say that once I get you into bed, I am not going to be letting you out,” and Derek laughed.

“Fair enough. Let’s go get some food.”

“If there’s anything left,” Stiles muttered under his breath, and Erica yelled back at them, having heard the two of them with her werewolf hearing, “Hey! I heard that! And we left plenty for you two love birds!”

Stiles felt his cheeks burning as they walked into the kitchen, where the rest of the pack was either around the table, the island, or were sitting on various surfaces, each one of them grinning like idiots at seeing the two of them walk hand in hand into the room.

Jackson looked down at their hands and rolled his eyes and drawled, “Oh, god, you two aren’t going to be the worst PDA couple ever, are you?” Lydia jabbed him in the side, and he grunted and corrected himself, saying in the least enthusiastic tone Stiles had ever heard, “I mean congratulations. Took you two long enough to figure it all out. God, if I had to keep pretending that I couldn’t smell the pheromones--”

“Tell me about it!” interrupted Liam, still chewing on his bite of szarlotka. He then swallowed and added, “Derek’s room is next to ours, by the way, and if you two are going to get up to stuff, then please, please, get the room soundproofed,” he begged, and Stiles saw the tips of Derek’s ears go red and blushed himself when Derek replied, “Uh, I, uh…I already did that.”

Stiles suddenly couldn’t look a single member of the pack in the eye, but he eventually looked back up and saw that Allison had broken out into giggles and she was batting at Scott with one hand, who was sitting next to her and shaking from laughter in his chair, and Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little bit betrayed by his reaction, though he did find the humor in the situation, despite the sheer awkwardness of it and the fact that everyone was staring at them.

Erica shot Stiles a lascivious smile and said, “Well, looks like someone’s definitely getting lucky tonight!” even as Boyd shook his head and wrapped an arm around his girlfriend’s waist, letting out a long-suffering sigh as she then asked, “So, Stiles, I’m guessing you’re a catcher?”

Isaac scrunched up his face at that and said, “Oh, god, Erica, stop! Would you please stop?!”

Lydia finally spoke up from where she was leaning against her boyfriend’s shoulder and gave them both a soft smile and said, “If everyone could stop acting like ten-year-olds, I’d like to say that I am very happy for the two of you. Like Jackson said, it took you long enough.”

Finally, Stiles spoke up.

“Okay, everyone’s acting they’ve known about this for forever, so I need to clear something up: if you knew that Derek already liked me, raise your hand!” His tone was more irritated then he meant it to be, but it seemed to draw amusement from the rest of the pack, because they all exchanged looks…and then all their hands went up, and Stiles let go of Derek’s fingers to bury his face into his hands and then said, his voice slightly muffled, “How long? I mean, how long has it been?”

Surprisingly enough, Scott answered first.

“Oh, dude, since junior year, at least,” and Stiles dropped his hands and gaped. He looked at his friend for a long moment, and then looked back over at Derek who looked even more flustered than Stiles was, shoving his hands nervously into the front pockets of his sweatpants, avoiding eye contact.

Derek then finally looked back up at Stiles, and at seeing the questioning look in his eyes, he simply nodded.

“Yeah. Since your junior year.”

He looked at him a second longer, and then, mentally deciding screw it, he reached up with both hands and pulled Derek down into another kiss, this one softer and sweeter than their first one, and then murmured against his lips, “I’ve wanted you that long, too…god, we are idiots.”

“No argument there.”

Stiles swung his head up, shocked to hear Boyd, of all people, making a smart remark at their expense. He smirked back at the two of them as he grabbed another piece of szarlotka, pressed a kiss to Erica’s forehead, and then mumbled under his breath as he left the kitchen, “Goin’ back to bed,” while Stiles stared at his back in surprise.

He then looked at Erica, who shrugged at him and at the rest of the pack, all of them surprised by Boyd’s comment, and she said, “What? You do realize I fell in love with him for a reason, right? How the hell do you think he puts up with me? He’s even more judgmental than I am,” she explained, arching an eyebrow at them, “He just knows how to keep his mouth shut…”

She grabbed a cinnamon roll, popped it between her teeth, and then headed back towards the living room, where she’d left her stocking. Everyone just shook their heads and went back to their breakfasts, all of them seemingly over the fact that Derek and Stiles were now, somehow, together. Stiles was still feeling off-balance at the fact that Derek returned his feelings, but he was willing to accept it and move on. In fact, now that he thought back on it, they’d been acting like a couple for a while, and might have been (sort of) co-parenting the pack.

It was wonderful and Stiles smiled when Derek slipped an arm around his waist as he grabbed a piece of his own szarlotka, pleased with the apple flavor that burst over his tongue, wondering if Derek would be having any and how it would taste on his tongue…oh, boy. He felt a part of himself taking interest at the thought, so he quickly shut it down.

They went and sat at the table, Stiles moving towards one of the chairs, and was taken off guard when Derek suddenly pulled him onto his lap.

“Hey! What the hell--?”

Derek said nothing and simply pressed his nose into Stiles’ neck, causing him to let out a noise that he didn’t know he was capable of making, and Allison, who sat across from them, let out another giggle as Stiles attempted to struggle, but soon found it useless as the alpha held him fast in his unyielding arms.

“Okay, guess we’re moving straight from the awkward stage to the disgusting, overly-affectionate-couple-in-public-that-everyone-hates stage,” he muttered, making himself as comfortable as he could on Derek’s lap, taking another bite of his piece of szarlotka. “You gonna let me up off your lap anytime soon, sourwolf?”

Derek shook his head and pretty much nuzzled into him, tightening his hold on his waist and shoving his nose and lips down towards his exposed collarbone, breathing deeply, and even though Stiles acted like he was annoyed by it, the truth was that it made him feel loved and wanted. He had seen Scott do the same thing with Allison, as well as Isaac, and had seen it between Erica and Boyd fairly often, though the large beta was usually fairly discreet about it, and had seen Jackson do it with both Lydia and Liam, even though he’d tried to hide his affections towards Liam, all in vain.

It made Stiles feel like he finally had a place within the pack and he silently preened under the attention, ignoring the eyerolls sent in his direction from Jackson, who was still sitting on the edge of the counter, peeling apart a cinnamon roll, while Lydia rested between his thighs, her head on his chest, picking at a piece of piernik with her fingers, tearing off small bites.

Stiles then felt a surge of warmth in his chest when Derek moved his mouth behind his ear and breathed out, “Thank you for building this home with me, Stiles…”

He turned his head slightly and caught Derek’s gaze, and saw that his eyes were unguarded, completely open, and it just about took his breath away, but he managed to say back to him, “You’re welcome, Derek. You know that I love you, right? That that’s why I’ve stayed all these years?”

The alpha’s mouth dropped open and he licked his lips.

“I love you, too.”

It was nice to hear the words, though he knew that he didn’t need them because he knew exactly how Derek felt about him just from the way that he was acting, so he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and then turned back to the table and grabbed a cinnamon roll for himself, smiling when he saw Scott lean in and rest his head against Allison’s shoulder.

Chapter 5 - I Think We're Alone Now...Mostly

There was an overall feeling of contentment settling over the Hale pack, and Stiles suddenly realized that he didn’t have to leave. He didn’t have to leave! Derek had given him a room with him, and everyone wanted him there, and they all seemed to accept him as a co-alpha of sorts alongside Derek, and…my god, he could stay. As it finally hit him, he felt a grin stretch across his face and he knew that it wouldn’t be going away any time soon, and he was perfectly fine with it.

Eventually they all made there way back to the living room and seized all of their presents and ill-gotten gains from their stockings and headed up to their separate rooms.

Liam and Isaac were the first ones to leave, however, thundering down the stairs and running outside to spend more time in the snow. Stiles was fairly certain that Erica and Boyd were celebrating in their own particular way that he didn’t want to know about, and that Lydia had most definitely gone back to sleep.

He wasn’t sure about the rest of the pack, but all thoughts of them went from his mind as soon as he approached Derek’s bedroom door.

No, he silently corrected himself, Our bedroom door.

He nervously thumbed the key in his hand and Derek stepped up right behind him, his hands once more going to Stiles hips, and Stiles couldn’t help but comment, “Okay, I think you have a fetish for my hips, because it’s like you can’t keep your hands off of them,” and Derek snorted and then chuckled and whispered into his ear, “Maybe I do…why don’t you open up the door and we can find out?”

Oh, boy.

Still nervous, but now for an entirely different reason than before, Stiles stepped forward and pushed the key into the lock…and then turned it. As he pushed the door open, he looked around the room to see if he could tell what the man had changed. The bed was a queen, but the first difference that he noticed after that was that there was a desk in the corner of the massive room and that the desk had a wi-fi router on it, along with a small mini-fridge right underneath it, and through the glassed front he saw his favorite soda stocked all the way up to the top. His heart clenched at the sight, knowing that Derek had set up his own internet separate from the rest of the pack, as well as had sacrificed the space where he used to keep his weights.

He walked the rest of the way into the room, squeezing the key in between his fingers, vaguely aware of the fact that Derek closed the door behind them and locked it, taking in everything else.

The walls were no longer dark brown, but now a sage green, and Derek had laid down a thick oriental rug onto the floor, rich in creams, reds, black lines, and green leaves, which was a perfect complement to the walls of the room. The dresser looked bigger than the previous one, and Stiles walked over and pulled open a drawer…and smiled when he saw a couple of his own sweaters tucked right on top.

“So, you went ahead and stole some of my clothes, huh?” he teased, fiddling with the string on the hood, but Derek just shrugged and openly admitted, “I wanted to smell you near me. Room didn’t smell right.”

He then walked up to Stiles and tugged at the edge of his shirt to pull him closer and said, “And now that you’re here, it’s going to be very hard for me to let you leave,” and then Stiles felt lips being pressed to his neck, a wet tongue sliding along his carotid, along with warm hands slipping up under the back of his shirt.

Oh, holy god, he was about to pass out.

He had gone from being completely oblivious to Derek’s affections to suddenly being seduced in the man’s bedroom in under two hours, and he wasn’t entirely sure that his brain could handle it. So, in a desperate measure to gain some semblance of control, he reached down and gently pulled the alpha’s hands off of him.

“Hey, hey…easy there, big guy. We’ve got all the time in the world, now, so why don’t we just, you know…take it slow?”

At that, Derek glared at him and practically growled out, “We’ve been taking it slow for nearly five years, Stiles. How about we finally get up to speed, hm?”

And then Stiles was suddenly flat on his back in the middle of the bed with two hundred and fifteen pounds of sheer muscle on top of him. He should have been suffocating, but instead all that came though in his head was, Oh, holy hell, he feels so good.

His entire body was pressed in between his thighs in the absolute best way and Stiles suddenly knew that he was probably going to be the neediest bottom ever. He had visions in his head of Derek flipping him over and using him to get off while Stiles just lay there on his stomach, helpless, and he didn’t think that he’d ever been so turned on in his life. Stiles knew, though, that he was going to need plenty of prep before something like that happened.

Derek had slid his hands back up under Stiles’ shirt, and was obviously trying to strip it off him, so he raised his arms and helped him and then turned the tables and reached down and pulled Derek’s shirt off, as well, so that they were on equal footing. Both of them were hard, rutting up against each other, their’ pajama bottoms offering little protection between the two of them.

Derek breathed against Stiles lips, both of them open mouthed and gasping for air as they each tried to gain better friction through their sleep pants.

Finally, feeling irritated and annoyed by the barrier, Stiles moved his hands down the alpha’s unfairly chiseled chest to his bottoms and tugged at them as hard as he could, and let out a sigh of relief when they easily slid off, and then Derek was naked on top of him, kicking off the pants behind him to fall down somewhere on the floor. Derek grinned at him, pressed a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth and then ran his nose down Stiles’ chest to his stomach and then slid his hands under his pajamas so that they were cupping his ass, where he then squeezed once, causing Stiles to clench, and then pulled them down just enough so that his cock popped out.

Stiles gasped as wet lips engulfed the tip of his erection and sucked. Hard. Oh, god, what a way to go. Instinctively, he tried to thrust up into Derek’s mouth, but Derek simply held him down with his effortless strength, suckling at just the tip, his tongue darting out every so often to trace the vein on the underside.

Strangled sounds that he didn’t know he was capable of making escaped him, and he gasped and writhed as the older man moved one hand further between his thighs and pressed firmly on the patch of skin just behind his…oh, fuck.

Stiles knew that he was about to blow, and managed to gasp out a warning, “Derek…I’m almost…god, please, not…not yet…”

It seemed to be enough because he did as he asked and moved his hand away and lifted up from the now glistening tip of his cock, precum sticking to his lips, a thick strand of it still sticking to the head of his cock and Derek’s mouth, and then Derek looked up at him with hooded, dilated eyes and Stiles was afraid that he would blow his load anyway, just from that look. He then licked his lips, breaking the strand, and rose up to meet him, their mouths connecting sloppily, and Stiles could taste part of himself on his lips and it should have been a turn off, but it really wasn’t.

Instead, he leaned into it, licking into Derek’s mouth, the taste reminding him of what the man had just been doing to him, and he suddenly had the urge to do the same to him, but he knew that unless the alpha allowed it, then there was no way that he was going to get any leverage to turn him over and return the favor.

Curious to see if he would let him, he gently pushed at Derek’s shoulder…and shuddered when the man let him turn him over to his back and Stiles straddled him.

The feeling of power, though fake, was heady, and Stiles quickly used the momentary lull to pull his own pajama pants off the rest of the way and threw them to join Derek’s on the floor, and then put his knees to either side of Derek’s hips and pressed his hands to the man’s chest, scraping his fingernails through the hair, loving the contrasting feel of coarse hair and smooth skin.

He took a moment to lean down and press his forehead to Derek’s.

“God, I love you,” he breathed out and then buried his head into Derek’s neck, a semblance of what Derek had done to him earlier, running his tongue along his pulse point and softly grinding down over the man’s prodigious erection. “I love you so much, Derek…”

He felt him swallow against his lips and he replied, “I love you, too, Stiles…”

Unable to help himself, Stiles lifted his eyes and smirked at him and said, “Then you probably won’t mind if I do this, would you?” and slid down his front until Derek’s erection was at eye level, and then flicked his tongue out tentatively, not having done it before, but knowing what he himself liked, and he heard Derek curse above him, and a soft thump told him that he’d thrown his head backwards into the pillow.

He took shameless advantage of his position and slid his hands under Derek’s ass and used the leverage to hold him closer to his mouth. Eager, but also cautious, he wrapped his lips around the tip and gently sucked…and he was hooked. Derek tasted amazing, and Stiles suddenly had the thought that he needed to get the rest of Derek’s dick into his mouth at that very moment. He knew better than to rush it, so instead inched down bit by bit, savoring every sound that fell from Derek’s lips.

He could feel that Derek was trying to keep from thrusting into his mouth, and for that he was grateful.

His lips stretched as he moved a little bit further down his cock and it felt good, especially when he heard Derek let out a strangled gasp when he softly squeezed the flesh under his fingers. Stiles memorized the feel and taste of the skin of Derek’s cock on his tongue, desperate to have even more.

He wanted to taste all of him. No matter what.

When he hit the back of his throat, Stiles noticed there were still at least three more inches, so he reluctantly let go with one hand and moved it to wrap around the base of his cock, his lips meeting his fingers, and then slowly pulled back, sucking strongly the entire time, and Derek gasped out, “Ah, Stiles!” and so he slid back down, enveloping him once more in the heat of his mouth. As he bobbed up and down on his cock, he quickly felt himself developing an oral fixation. Oh, he couldn’t wait to do this all the time.

He didn’t know how long he was down there, worshipping his cock, but it was long enough that his jaw started to ache, and then Derek reached down and touched his fingertips to his shoulder and Stiles felt the ache in his jaw dissipate and he grinned to himself, finding it amusing that the alpha was using his healing abilities during sex.

Encouraged, he sucked a bit more forcefully, and then was pleased when Derek let out a hoarse shout and then called out, “Stiles, I’m…I’m gonna…”

And then he burst over the back of his tongue and he swallowed it down as best he could, enjoying every tremor and twitch of Derek’s body beneath his as he cleaned him up with teasing licks along the crown of his cock as he gently let him slip from his mouth.

He looked up at the man, and he swore he’d never seen anything so beautiful. Derek’s body was soaked with sweat, as well as his hair, and an errant strand curled over his forehead, damply clinging to his skin, drawing Stiles’ attention to his eyes which were wide…and bleeding a faint red. Oh, now that was hot. And then he looked down at Derek’s mouth, which was open wide, panting, and Stiles took pride in the fact that he’d just taken the man’s breath away. He’d seen him run flat out for five miles and not be out of breath, but one blowjob from Stiles and he looked wrecked.

Grinning, Stiles moved back up his body and pressed a kiss to the man’s jaw and then whispered into his ear, “You look so good right now,” and he felt Derek’s body shiver beneath him.

Just as he was about to say something else, he found their positions switched…and he let out a groan when Derek then moved Stiles from his back over to his front so that Stiles was spread out under him exactly the way that he had imagined when they had first started their rendezvous.

Derek pressed his chest to his back, hands on his shoulders, and then leaned down and nipped at Stiles’ neck with teeth that were sharper than they should have been.

“You have no idea how good you smell right now,” he murmured, laving his tongue across the back of his neck, sliding down to his spine and then Stiles realized that he was letting out faint mewls as the older man proceeded to dip his tongue into every little divot as he traced his way down his back. And then…

“Oh, holy god,” Stiles breathed out as he felt a strong tongue slip between his cheeks. He’d never…oh. God.

He tried to arch back into it, but Derek’s hands held him firmly down against the mattress and Stiles had never felt so helpless before in his life…or more helplessly turned on. Sure, he’d read about this sort of thing before, and he’d seen it in a few of the porn videos he’d watched, but he’d never understood the appeal. Until now. And now he felt like every nerve ending was on fire as Derek slipped his tongue over and over his hole, urging him to loosen up for him, and soon his tongue was sliding inside, and Stiles was seeing stars.

He moaned into the pillow, gripping it as tightly as he dared, unashamedly biting into it, trying to figure out how to breathe.

And then he felt something blunt pressing into him, the pressure deliriously good, and he dared to glance back and down and realized that it was Derek’s finger, and he managed to say, “More,” but he sure that it came out more as a needy moan, because Derek looked back up at him, smirked, and then playfully dug his teeth into the flesh of his ass as he slid his finger the rest of the way in, all the way to the knuckle.

He slowly pumped it in and out of him and Stiles was almost crying because he kept on trying to move his hips to push further into it, but Derek held him fast, not letting him move.

After an interminable wait, Stiles felt a second finger breach him, which stung for a second, but then the alpha’s fingers curled in just the right way…holy shit.

Colors burst behind his eyelids as he stroked a spot inside of him that Stiles had never been able to quite reach with his own fingers, and he felt the tip of his cock spurt more precome, soaking the sheets under his stomach as Derek pressed up against it relentlessly, his tongue now tracing along the spot where his ass met his thigh, his fingers doing all the work. And then…a third finger. Stiles gasped and struggled a bit more, arching his shoulders, doing everything he could to get Derek to go faster, harder, but he resolutely kept his sedate pace, brushing up on his prostate with every three strokes, or so. Holy shit, he wasn’t sure he was going to last, he thought to himself as he felt more precome drip from the head of his cock, staining the bedding even more.

He swore he felt Derek grin against him when he swore under his breath, because suddenly the fingers were gone, and Stiles felt shockingly empty, but then he felt Derek’s hands on his hips, hitching them up slightly higher than before, and then…

“Oooooh,” was all that he able to groan out as Derek entered him with his cock, already hard again, spearing him open.

It still hurt a little bit because Derek was thick, but mostly what Stiles felt was a low thrum of pleasure in his stomach that started to lick up his back and down into his balls, and he didn’t want it to end. He did let out a gasp, though, when Derek kept on pushing in, wondering just how big was the man?

The alpha suddenly stopped, and Stiles glanced over his shoulder and saw him with his eyes tightly closed, panting, the veins in his neck standing out as if he was holding himself back…and so Stiles glanced down. He still wasn’t all the way in. Oh, god. He was going to be split in two. And he wanted every second of it.

Realizing Derek needed help, he reached back and slid his fingers over Derek’s, where they rested on his hip in a vice-like grip, noticed that Derek’s claws were out, and then said, licking his lips, “C’mon, big guy. Take me all the way, you can do it,” and Derek’s eyes snapped open at his words. They were bright red. Undeterred, and even more turned on, Stiles pulled at the man’s fingers, linked his through them, and added, “Please. I need you. All of you.”

And those seemed to be the magic words.

With a snarl, Derek tightened his grip on his hips even further, his claws lightly digging into his skin, and shoved himself the rest of the way in and Stiles collapsed back onto the bed, his only points of contact with the sheets being his chest and arms, as Derek now held the back part of him up in the air effortlessly.

Stiles had never felt more full in his life. He’d played with dildos in the past, but this…god, this was a million times better. Derek was stupidly thick and long and Stiles felt that if the man wasn’t holding him that his body would have split underneath all of the pressure. And in that particular position, it felt like the only thing that existed south of his waist was Derek’s cock. And then he started to thrust, and Stiles felt his eyes roll back in his head and he knew that he wasn’t going to last.

Stiles managed to brace himself with his hands against the headboard as Derek pounded into him, at first with a steady rhythm, but then it started to pick up, and he was going faster and faster and Stiles felt tears forming at the corner of his eyes with how good it all felt. It was completely overwhelming, in the absolute best way.

He felt his cock rise even more and then, on one particularly well-aimed thrust, he felt his balls draw up tight against him and he knew that he was close.

“Der, I’m, I’m…I’m close,” he gasped out, unsure if the man was even aware of anything at that point, because all he heard behind him was grunting and the occasional growl, but apparently Derek heard him, because his response was to tighten his grip even further and pull him down even harder onto his cock, and his thrusts became harder and more erratic, and then he was leaning over his back and his teeth bit into the back of Stiles’ neck and--

Stiles cried out as he came, thick lines of come spilling from him and onto the bed beneath him, and he could feel Derek still thrusting and--whoa, what the hell--he was getting bigger?

And then his mind flashed back to some research he’d done years ago and supplied him the answer: knotting.

He cried out a second time at the unexpected pressure from the base of Derek’s cock that was now pressing directly onto his prostate and drawing out his orgasm longer than he knew was possible, and he sobbed at the onslaught of pleasure that wouldn’t let up, still coming, and then sobbed some more when he felt the sticky wet heat painting his insides as Derek came inside him, and his eyes rolled up in his head and he felt faint as the world went black around him.

He didn’t know how long it lasted, but when he finally came back to himself, he found them on the floor on a pile of thick blankets, Derek’s cock still inside of him, and he moved a little, just to see if he could, and Derek hissed when his knot tugged at the edge of his hole and pulled him closer, murmuring into his ear from where he was curled up behind him, “Not yet, Stiles…it’s gonna be a while longer before I can…I can pull out.”

He sounded embarrassed, so Stiles reassured him by lifting his hand up and running it through the alpha’s hair and said, “Hey, it’s okay. You just gave me the most amazing orgasm of my life. You’re not gonna hear me complaining any time soon,” and Derek let out a sigh into his shoulder and ran his hand over Stiles’ side and then lightly thrusted into him, as if making himself more comfortable, and Stiles let out a sigh of his own and added, “God, that feels good…”

He heard Derek hum behind him, and just from the sound, Stiles knew he was still feeling unsure.

Desperate to let him know that he hadn’t done anything wrong, Stiles said, “Okay, so the knotting was a surprise, but I enjoyed every single second of it. Obviously,” he drawled, grinning as he rolled his eyes. “It’s not every day that I have an orgasm so strong that I blackout.”

At that, he turned his head to look Derek in the eye and saw a small, albeit smug grin cross his lips.

Derek then worried his bottom lip between his teeth and then said, “So…you really liked it?”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh and replied, “Yeah, big guy. I really, really liked it. And, just you know, the knotting wasn’t a huge surprise,” he admitted and chuckled again when Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “I did some research way back when Scott was first turned and it took me to some, uh, questionable websites. I didn’t know what was true and what wasn’t, so I ignored most of it, but might have been a little too interested in some of it.”

Derek then shook his head and pressed his forehead to Stiles’ shoulder and said, “Of course, you did.”

Stiles went to turn his head a bit further…but winced as he felt some sort of soreness on the back of his neck. What the…? He reached up a hand and felt around, and then felt Derek’s fingers entwine with his and move them both to what felt like a wound that was already healing.

“Derek, what…?”

He didn’t finish the question, but the alpha answered anyway, explaining, “It’s a mating bite. It won’t turn you, just…it’s sort of a claiming mark, declaring you off limits to anyone that might try and take you from the pack. This lets everyone know that you’re mine.” He went a bit quiet, and then said, “I’m sorry. I just…it was the heat of the moment, and you felt so good on me and you smelled so good and willing, that I just…I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry,” he apologized a second time, and Stiles shook his head.

“Hey, hey, don’t be,” he said, lightly thrusting his ass back onto Derek’s knot, reminding him that they were still joined, causing them both to softly moan. “I wanted this. All of this. I will always want all of you, Der…you understand that, right? That I will always want all of you? That’s why I said it…”

He let his voce drift and smiled when Derek buried his nose into his neck and breathed him in, licking at the bite…

…and then Derek was rolling him to his front and lightly thrusting into him a second time, his knot catching deliciously on the edge of Stiles’ rim, making him groan.

He then continued to thrust, and Stiles felt helpless, his still neglected cock being forced to rut into the soft pile of blankets beneath him.

“Yes, Derek,” he breathed out and that seemed to be the spark he needed, because he began to move his hips faster, pistoning at a speed that no human could hope to match, and Stiles groaned when he felt Derek’s knot swell up a bit more. It only took a few more thrusts and then they were both coming, Stiles crying out as his prostate was relentlessly pressed up against and he continued to come, baffled that he still had anything left in him after last time.

They then collapsed on the blankets in a tangle of hot and sweaty limbs, and Stiles welcomed the weight of him on his back, and said, “Boy, you really like me, huh?”

And Derek broke out into uncharacteristic giggles and then pressed his forehead into the back of Stiles’ shoulder and said, “Yeah, uh…sorry about that. It’ll take a while for it to go down, again. Uh, you just…you just smell really good with my scent inside you. I kind of really like it…”

Stiles smiled and reached around and patted at Derek’s side, and said, “It’s all good. Now, how about we do nothing for a while and then clean up and go back down for some more food?”

Derek nodded and nuzzled into him, rolling them back over to their sides.

“Sounds good,” he said, already halfway asleep, and Stiles smiled as the alpha unconsciously tugged him closer to his hips.

A couple hours later, they made their way back downstairs, both of them having showered after they woke up, deciding it would be best if they didn’t share the shower. It proved to be the better idea, as they actually got done in time.

The instant they walked into the living room, however, both of them heading over to retrieve their stockings, Jackson scrunched up his nose and gave both of them a judgmental look.

“Okay, seriously?” he said, “What did you two do? Have an all-out orgy?”

Derek flushed a dark red, so Stiles straightened his shoulders and glared right back at the beta and said, “You’re just pissed that I got sexed up today and you haven’t,” and Isaac snorted, Liam choked on his bite of cinnamon roll, Scott groaned, and both of the girls rolled their eyes.

He sat back down on the couch, wincing slightly as he did, noticing Derek shoot him a small smirk at seeing his reaction. Stiles ignored him and went back to his candy, popping in several pieces of chocolate at once, feeling absolutely famished. He’d burned a lot of calories and in the best way possible. Despite the slight soreness, he was excited to do it again, and looked back over at Derek and gave him a secretive smile, biting his lip as he thought about what else the two of them could do.

Lydia, who sat at Stiles’ feet with her back to the couch, arched her neck and looked up at them and said, “Glad to see the two of you happy. You deserve it,” she added, looking over at Derek.

Stiles saw that he was feeling awkward and so decided to close the remaining distance between them and rested his head on the alpha’s shoulder, knowing that Derek would have trouble initiating such casual, intimate touching between the two of them. Derek was stiff for a moment, but then Stiles gently slid his fingers into his and squeezed his hand and he felt the older man’s entire body relax under his touch.

After a brief second of everyone staring at them, they all went back to their stockings and their presents and Stiles held in a snort when he heard Scott complaining about the socks Liam had gotten him.

They stayed that way for a long while, and soon Stiles’ head had drifted to Derek’s lap, and the alpha started running his fingers through his hair. It was soothing and lulled him into a not-quite-state of sleep. He was floating between being awake and being asleep, enjoying the soft attention of Derek’s fingers as they trailed along his hairline, through it, and then gently moved down to trace the nearly healed mating mark on the back of his neck.

As he pressed him thumb to it, Stiles blearily muttered, “All yours, Derek,” and he glanced up and saw through sleepy eyes that Derek was smiling.

Derek smiled back at him.

“All mine,” he whispered, his fingers still running over the scar.

Things were fairly quiet, until Liam suddenly spoke up from his spot sprawled between Lydia and Jackson, his legs on Lydia’s lap, his head on Jackson’s thigh, and asked, “When’s dinner? I’m starving,” to which Allison responded from her place closest to the fireplace with Scott’s head in her lap, “You just ate! Didn’t you have, like, three cinnamon rolls and five pieces of Stiles’ desserts?”

Before Liam could give a rebuttal, Lydia said, “Yes, he did, but he has like, three stomachs or something when it comes to food. Now, if I remember correctly,” she said, glancing up at Stiles and Derek, “We already have a whole bunch of prepared food, we just have to heat it up, right?” Stiles nodded as best he could from his position, and she smiled and said, gently shoving Liam’s legs off her own, “Then in that case, let’s let Derek and Stiles have a break while you and I,” she pointed at Scott, pulling a groan from him, “Go reheat the food. It’s the least we could do, Scott, considering we didn’t help out much this holiday,” she said, walking over and pulling him up from his comfortable spot.

Stiles snorted in amusement as he watched his friend get dragged off to the kitchen to help prepare (a word he loosely used) dinner for the pack.

Derek then said lowly into Stiles’ ear, “What are the chances that they’ll burn the food?” and Stiles shrugged as best he could and answered, “Eh, fifty-fifty,” and Derek’s expression looked slightly worried as he turned his gaze over his shoulder back towards the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about it, big guy,” Stiles said, patting his knee. “Lydia will make sure Scott doesn’t ruin everything.”

Derek nodded, but his mouth was still in a thin line, so Stiles decided to distract him by asking, “Hey, by the way, why did your mom and dad put their names on the inside of the front door when they moved in?” and Derek turned his attention back to him and smiled at the question.

“A friend of theirs actually helped them build the house, so, when they put the front door in, the last piece, they thought it would be good to mark it with their names to show that they had a place that they could always call home.” His voice drifted, and Stiles could tell from the faraway look in his eyes that he was remembering them. “When you helped put this place back together…that was when I knew.” He looked down at him and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “That was when I knew that I needed to keep you with me. Always. And when you carved your name next to mine…I just knew.”

Stiles smiled up at him and then reached up and gently pulled him down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you, sourwolf,” he murmured against his lips as they parted, and Derek grinned when he added, “Merry Christmas.”

“The best Christmas,” he replied, darting in and placing a quick kiss on his nose and Stiles smiled.

As they settled back into each other, he mused that the two of them had really gotten the best gifts that they ever could have gotten. Each other. Derek adjusted himself so that Stiles was now pressed along his entire side, him on his back and Derek on his side with his back to the back of the sofa, one leg thrown over both of Stiles. They were nearly asleep when--

--“What the hell did you do?” screeched Lydia. “I said put it in for one minute!!”

“I did!” yelled back Scott and they could both smell smoke coming from the kitchen, along with the acrid smell of burnt food, and then they heard Lydia say, “No, you idiot, you put it in for ten minutes. God! That’s it! Out of the kitchen!”

They heard a scuffle and then a thump as Scott landed on his ass on the floor just beyond their view.

“And don’t come back in here!”

Stiles felt Derek shaking next to him and then looked up just as Derek broke into laughter and Stiles then broke into giggles, himself, and managed to gasp out, “They’re your pack, Derek! You’ve got no one but yourself to blame,” to which Derek replied, finally getting his laughter under control, “No, they’re our pack,” and Stile breath caught in his throat.

Yeah.

They were their pack.

#tails89 #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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