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Stiles adjusted his sleeves, still not used to the khaki uniform shirt he now had to wear. When he was traveling across the US working cases for the FBI, he rarely had to wear a uniform. Sure, a monkey suit came into his life every now-and-then, but those days were few and far between, with the amount of time he spent undercover or out in the field wearing a vest.
A throat cleared next to him and Stiles startled, looking up to see his dad. “Bored yet?”
Stiles rolled his eyes, motioning toward the pile of manilla envelopes to his left. “With all this paperwork? How could I be?”
Noah chuckled. “Just making sure you don’t regret giving up your big-time gig for small-town life.”
Stiles gave him a genuine smile. “Not regretting it, I promise,” he said. “Three hundred-plus days a year on the road was a fine life for a twenty-something, but it got exhausting. I’m happy to be back, I promise.”
Noah nodded, clapping Stiles on the shoulder affectionately before heading down the aisle of desks and into his office. Stiles watched him go, truly happy he was able to see his dad every day again.
Seriously, the past decade of his life was exhilarating - but incredibly exhausting. He was more than glad to be back in Beacon Hills, head of the new investigating team in his dad’s sheriff station - and unofficial head of the supernatural division. Who knows, if Parrish stuck with his insistence that he never wanted to be sheriff, maybe Stiles would apply for the job when his dad finally retired.
In the meantime… Stiles had years of cold cases to work his way through and a lot to catch up on.
He was elbows deep (because he finally unbuttoned that damn uniform shirt and rolled the sleeves up, uniform code be damned) in a case when he heard a familiar voice at the front desk.
“It’s a surprise, of course,” the voice was saying, “he doesn’t know I’m here. Can you just point me to his desk?”
Stiles frowned, setting his pen down. There was no way she was here for him -
Margie, the front desk secretary, pointed across the room and Stiles watched as a beautiful brunette headed that way, heels clacking obnoxiously on the linoleum. Stiles’s throat caught, unprepared for the sight of her.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t gotten over Maggie, who he’d dated for nearly three years when he was based in Virginia. They hadn’t ever truly worked well together, and it was really only the constant travel (and subsequent often and enthusiastic welcome home sex) that had kept them together for so long. They’d broken up - two, three? - years ago with a stupendous argument that involved her throwing some of his things out the window, but Stiles didn’t regret the break up at all. Stiles didn’t even think he had any lingering feelings for the woman whatsoever.
It was just strange as all get-out to see her again, especially all the way across the country in Beacon Hills.
Stiles watched Maggie click-clack her way to a desk, and if he wasn’t mistaken it was the new guy’s: Bradley Something . Or maybe it was Something Bradley. Stiles couldn’t remember if Bradley was his first or last name, to be honest. Something-Bradley-Something had just started last week, moving to Beacon Hills from a big city. Stiles hadn’t really talked with the guy, but seeing Maggie sit down in his empty chair like she belonged there helped him fill in at least some blanks: Maggie was here to visit Bradley.
Before he could be caught staring, Stiles went back to his paperwork, hoping that Maggie wouldn’t look across the room and see him. Maybe she was here for a short visit and would be gone in no time. Maybe he could just ignore the whole situation.
A few minutes passed - long enough that Stiles had gotten back into his working groove - before he heard her voice again. He looked up to see Maggie squealing out a greeting upon Bradley’s arrival back to the station from a call. Stiles couldn’t help but watch - along with everyone else - as Bradley approached, lifting Maggie into a spinning-hug-kiss. When they separated, Stiles quickly looked back down at his work, feeling like he was intruding on their moment.
Just then, Stiles’s phone buzzed. Derek was outside, ready to head to lunch. Stiles smiled to himself, happily reminded that the once-again Alpha was now probably his closest friend. While the pack as a whole had spread across the country, Derek and Stiles had been pretty decent at keeping in touch even when Stiles was traveling or undercover. Now that Stiles was back in Beacon Hills, they made a point to have lunch at the diner a few times a week, specifically when Stiles was on shift and Derek knew he’d be prone to skipping meals.
Derek knew better than anyone how Stiles could - even to this day - fall into a research black hole. Derek claimed it was his duty as Alpha to make sure Stiles ate more than the vending machine Uncrustables from the station, but they both knew their lunches were because they genuinely liked spending time together.
Stiles closed his files, grabbed his gear, and headed for the side door - specifically leaving in the other direction from where Bradley and Maggie were still hugging. Stiles walked around to the front of the station and found Derek leaning on his Camaro (a new one since they were young, because he’d upgraded a couple years back) waiting for him.
“Hey,” Stiles greeted, grinning. Derek smiled back. Stiles liked that Derek was easier to smile these days, with the territory settled and the Beacon Hills Hellmouth seemingly closed for business. Their pack was relaxed, able to live their lives without running away from danger every month.
“Took you long enough,” Derek teased, pushing off the Camaro and motioning for Stiles to lead the way. As Stiles began walking past the front of the station, he felt Derek’s hand hovering at his lower back, which made him warm with affection.
“Sorry, I was a bit distracted-”
“Ohmigod, Stiles ?!”
“-by that .” Stiles finished, grimacing as he froze. Derek froze with him, frowning and turning toward the front door of the station to see who was squealing.
Stiles turned more slowly, pasting a smile on his face that he hoped Maggie wouldn’t see through. There she stood, grasping at the crook of Bradley’s arm, a huge grin on her face. Now that Stiles was closer to her, he saw the giant rock on her finger.
“Hey… Maggie,” Stiles greeted. He felt Derek shift next to him, standing close enough that Stiles could feel his support. He might have mentioned Maggie to Derek in passing one drunk night, but at this point Stiles had no memory of what he’d actually said about her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, letting go of Bradley’s arm and approaching. Stiles - albeit, unenthusiastically - accepted her hug, patting her a couple times on the back awkwardly.
“I should be asking you that. Beacon Hills is my hometown, remember?” he said, his voice lilting. He wasn’t sure if Maggie would remember. While he had talked to her about home on and off, she had always been more of the talker in their relationship.
Which was impressive, considering how much Stiles could talk.
Maggie put on her thinking face as she let Stiles out of the awkward hug, tilting her head to one side like it would help her access her memories. “I don’t remember that, but what a crazy coincidence! Josh just moved here for work, so I’ll be officially moving here soon and probably be seeing you more often again!”
Stiles gave a stiff smile to Bradley - apparently Josh Bradley - and nodded. “Guess so,” he said. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about it, but what could you do? Derek’s hand settled more firmly on Stiles’s back, a calming presence.
“Oh, and we’ll be at the station’s holiday party next week, will you and your boyfriend be there too?”
Stiles’s mouth was suddenly not working, realizing that his and Derek’s physical closeness through the interaction must have implied, to Maggie, that he and Derek were -
Stiles sputtered. “I, uh. We…”
“We’ll definitely be there,” Derek’s voice supplied next to him. He stepped slightly forward, one hand still firmly on Stiles’s back as he offered Maggie the other to shake. “I’m Derek, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Maggie’s face faltered, recognizing the animosity between Derek’s words, but she quickly shook his hand and smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, Derek. I’m sure we’ll have tons of time to get to know each other, now that we’re all here in Beacon Hills. But Joshy and I were just on our way out - we’ll see you at the party!”
Stiles just nodded and gave her a wave, mind still computing the last thirty seconds as he watched the couple walk away. Derek, knowing that Stiles’s mind was occupied and wouldn’t be sending the rest of his body instructions, steered him the other way toward the diner.
“What was that?!” Stiles asked, when they sat down at their regular booth.
Derek shrugged, looking intently at the menu even though Stiles knew he had the whole thing memorized. “Apparently your ex is moving into town.”
Stiles scoffed. “Well, obviously. But, but… The station holiday party?”
Derek flipped the page, eyes focused. “It seemed like you needed some back up.”
Stiles sighed, unimpressed with Derek dismissing the flamboyantly rainbow elephant in the room. “Derek,” he said stiffly. “You basically confirmed Maggie’s assumption that you’re my boyfriend, and will be my date at the party.”
Derek finally looked up from the menu, setting it to the side. “You smelled awkward and uncomfortable and I know that things with Maggie didn’t exactly end great. I was going to be at the party anyway, remember? May as well let her think what she wants, get used to you being here - and happy - in Beacon Hills, and then later on you can tell her we broke up or something.”
Stiles was speechless, but Old Jenny came by to confirm their orders (because really, they came to the diner often enough that she just needed to check that Derek wanted a BLT, extra bacon, and a side salad, while Stiles wanted a cheeseburger, extra cheddar, with curly fries) and just after that Stephanie, the new teenage waitress, dropped a plate across the restaurant, so the moment for a retort was gone.
It wasn’t until after lunch, when they were walking back to the station, that Stiles grabbed Derek’s arm.
“Hey,” he said, holding Derek’s gaze, “thanks for earlier. It’s good to know you have my back, even when it’s not life-or-death.”
Derek nodded, squeezed Stiles’s arm right back, and headed for his car.
Stiles watched him go, because who wouldn’t want to watch that walking away?
Stiles was able to avoid Bradley - and Maggie - for the rest of the week. In fact, he basically forgot about the whole fake-boyfriend thing until the day before the party itself.
What are you wearing?
Stiles frowned at Derek’s text, looking down at himself. He was slumming it on his couch, hand in a bag of cheetos with season one of The Mandalorian playing on the television.
Old lax sweats and a tee. Sexy, right?
Stiles’s fingers tapped at his phone, waiting impatiently for Derek’s response so that he could figure out why Derek cared about his wardrobe.
Not now. Tomorrow night, idiot.
Stiles’s face flushed at the reminder of their “date” - and the realization that Derek was asking him so that they could - what, match?
Hadn’t thought about it, tbh.
A minute more passed before -
Wear those dark wash jeans that you wore for your birthday. And that dark red button up, the one Melissa gave you for Christmas last year.
Picking my clothes for me, schnookums?
Apparently so.
Stiles chuckled, but got to his feet. He had no idea where the shirt was, so it would be better to find it tonight in case it needed dry cleaning in the morning.
Stiles had the early shift the day of the party - six am to four pm - so his lunch break was at eleven. He decided to work through lunch, though, hoping to whittle down a bit more of the stack of cold case files on his desk.
At ten after eleven, a brown sack landed on the folder open on his desk. Stiles looked up to see Derek, his eyebrows clearly stating, “You shouldn’t skip lunch, Stiles,” before he wandered away without a spoken word - heading toward his dad’s office with another brown sack.
Stiles’s eyes stayed on Derek as he knocked on the door, waited for permission, then opened it. He disappeared inside and Stiles could barely hear the rumblings of the two of them chatting as Derek offered the food.
When Derek didn’t come out immediately, Stiles turned to his sack lunch, opening it to find a couple homemade sandwiches, potato chips, and a pickle, as well as two of Derek’s delicious molasses cookies.
Stiles went for a cookie first, stuffing it into his mouth all at once while he unwrapped a sandwich.
“You’re going to choke,” Derek deadpanned, startling Stiles into actually choking. He was able to recover quickly and swallow, though, grinning at Derek’s judgmental brows.
“I blame it on your cookies.”
Derek sat in Stiles’s interview chair, quietly watching as Stiles took the first bite of his sandwich. “Thanks for lunch,” he said, mouth full.
Derek’s eyebrow raised again. Seriously, so expressive.
“Figured you wouldn’t feed yourself today,” Derek explained dismissively. “What time should I pick you up tonight?”
For anyone else, Stiles would have had whiplash at the non sequitur, but between the two of them, conversations often veered in odd directions with no warning.
“Seven?” Stiles offered. “Dad told me I’m not allowed to be back here within two hours of my shift, like he thinks I’d actually take the time to nap. So not until after six, for sure.”
“Seven works,” Derek said with a nod. “I’m helping with set up at five, but I’ll swing by to get you when I’m done.”
Stiles took another bite of the sandwich - it was delicious. “How’d you get roped into set up?”
Derek looked away, eyes wandering the station nonchalantly. Stiles knew it was anything but, though. “I offered. Your dad accepted. Nothing crazy.”
Stiles hummed, not feeling like pressing for the full truth right now. His eyes went back to the file under his lunch and he read as he chewed. “Hey, do you think this one was a djinn?”
He handed Derek a page from the file, finishing off his sandwich while he skimmed it over. Stiles grabbed the pickle and took a bite - a gherkin, his favorite - while he waited. Derek tilted his head from side to side.
“Could have been. I can ask around, see if there was a clan traveling through,” he paused, looking back at the top of the page, “twenty eight years ago? Not sure if anyone will remember, though.”
Stiles shrugged, taking the page back. “Wouldn’t hurt to ask. Some packs keep detailed ledgers, you know.” He gave Derek a look that said, See, this is why I write everything down for us now.
Derek huffed, but nodded. He stood. “Enjoy your lunch. See you tonight.”
“Later,” Stiles offered, and once again he couldn’t stop himself from watching Derek saunter out of the station as he finished off his pickle. His mouth was watering, maybe because of the sour pickle…or maybe because Derek’s back was just that mouth-watering.
“You’ve got it bad, kid,” a voice said behind him. Stiles jumped in his chair, turning to glare.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Pops,” he retorted, but his dad just laughed and walked toward the break room, his brown sack lunch in hand.
It might have warmed Stiles’s heart a bit seeing how Derek was taking care of not only him, but his dad as well.
Stiles did end up taking a nap after his shift. In fact, he got home and went straight for the couch, faceplanting into it and leaving the land of the conscious almost immediately.
Two hours was plenty of time for an afternoon nap, though, so his body woke up of its own accord just after six and he stumbled his way to the shower. If he took a little more time primping himself, shaving extra carefully and messing with his hair a few minutes longer than normal, nobody would know.
Stiles was buttoning up his red shirt (trying not to focus on the fact that Derek had picked his outfit out for him) when there was a knock on his door. “It’s open,” Stiles said at a normal volume, knowing that if it was Derek (which it surely was) he’d be able to hear. Sure enough, the front door opened and shut, Derek letting himself inside.
Stiles gave himself one more glance in the mirror (his ass looked really good in these jeans - was that why Derek chose them?) before heading out to the living room. His breath nearly caught at the sight of Derek standing by the front door, seemingly entranced with the pack pictures hanging there.
Stiles was grateful, though, because it let him take his fill of Derek’s own outfit - black jeans that hugged him in all the right places and a forest green sweater, soft looking. Standing together, they’d look like Christmas.
Maybe that was the idea.
“Ready?” Stiles asked, reaching for his jacket. Derek turned to face him, giving him a once-over from head to toe. Stiles felt his face heating up, but then Derek smiled softly and nodded, opening the door.
“After you,” he offered.
Needing to calm himself down, Stiles immediately teased, “Ever the gentlemen, my boyfriend.”
Except - it didn’t come out as teasing as he had planned. Plus, Derek didn’t move completely out of his way, so they brushed together as Stiles walked through the door.
Their brief touch was much more intense than Stiles had expected it to be.
Door locked, Derek escorted Stiles to the car, going so far to open the door for him. “So this is how it’s going to be tonight?” Stiles asked as soon as Derek pulled out onto the street. Derek’s head tilted, asking for clarification. “You’re going to be the perfect boyfriend tonight, show Maggie how I should really be treated?”
Derek’s eyes flickered over to Stiles for a split second before looking back at the road. He shrugged. “Guess so.”
Stiles hummed, finally pulling his eyes away from Derek to look out the window. He was quiet for the rest of the short drive, unable to come up with anything else to say. The idea of Derek playing the perfect boyfriend all night had his stomach tying into knots, and he started to wonder what he’d gotten himself into.
This could go really well - or it could end very poorly.
Derek pulled into the parking lot at the community center, where they were hosting the holiday party. Once again, he came around to open Stiles’s door for him, and Stiles felt heat blooming in his cheeks.
With Derek’s hand on his lower back, they headed inside and immediately Stiles’s face broke into a smile - it looked like Christmas inside, with decorated trees scattered around the room and red, green, silver, and gold decorations at every table. It smelled like pine and cinnamon and Christmas .
“Let me guess,” Stiles said, “you cut down the trees and carried them in yourself.”
When he looked over at Derek, the werewolf’s ears were pink. He ducked his head, bashful. “I had help,” he replied. Stiles just laughed, knowing that even with help, Derek had probably done most of the manual labor himself.
“What would we do without you, Sourwolf?” Stiles asked fondly, letting Derek guide him toward a drink table. One of the nearby trees was filled with angel-shaped cards, images of animals on them. “A doggie angel tree?” Stiles questioned gleefully, side-stepping the drink table to inspect the images. “Derek, we have to adopt one of these guys, they’re so cute!”
Derek came up behind Stiles, two drinks in hand, and frowned. “We’re not getting a dog, Stiles,” he replied grumpily. Stiles turned, two cards in hand.
“We don’t have to actually adopt them, but we buy all the toys and supplies they have listed on here so they get presents in the shelter,” Stiles explained. “Look, this one’s a husky! Betty, what a cute name.” Derek had to lean back at Stiles’s enthusiasm in showing him the picture when the card was shoved an inch from his face. “And ohmigod!” Stiles said loudly, before lowering his voice to a whisper to continue. “This one looks just like you! ”
Derek frowned, moving closer to Stiles’s side so that he could look at the dog on this card. It was solid black, with ears that stood up and honey colored eyes. It had to be some sort of husky mix. “He is cute,” Derek admitted, motioning with one finger for Stiles to flip the card over. “What the heck’s a giggle ball?”
Stiles shrugged, putting Betty back on the tree and flipping Derek’s twin over again. “Some toy, I’m sure. Apparently Spike wants a giggle ball and vaccines. I bet we can do better than that, we’ll get him a new bed, too, and an elkhorn bone, and -”
“Aw, are you two adopting a dog?”
Maggie and Bradley - Josh, whatever - had come over while Stiles was distracted by the angel tree. Stiles jumped and turned toward her before gathering himself and grinning.
“I don’t know about adopting - this one’s a grump about animals in the house,” Stiles grinned over at Derek, whose face was the perfect amount of grump in that moment, “but we’ll definitely do a little donation to help out. Look at how cute Spike is!”
Stiles held the cardstock angel out to Maggie, who took it and awe’d appropriately. Derek took the opportunity to hand Stiles his drink - and then wrapped his now free arm firmly around Stiles’s waist.
Stiles took a big sip of the drink - something cinnamon-y - to cover the redness in his cheeks.
“Joshy, babe, we should pick one!” Maggie said, handing Spike’s card back to Stiles and pulling Bradley toward the tree. “And maybe we can actually take the sweet baby home with us!”
Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle at the wide-eyed look on Bradley’s face. “We’ll leave you to it, then. Make sure you pick a cute one!”
Stiles patted Bradley on the back in a friendly gesture before walking away, Derek right next to him. Derek’s hand was still resting on his back, and Stiles couldn’t help but feel completely comfortable with it.
Crap, this was going to be simultaneously the best and worst night ever.
Stiles and Derek made their way around the room, chatting with deputies and their families, until dinner was served. They sat at a table with the Sheriff and a couple others and Stiles studiously ignored his dad’s pointed looks toward him and Derek.
A few toasts were made, including one from the head of the holiday party committee who thanked the volunteers - and Derek by name - for helping with the party. Stiles nudged Derek obnoxiously when his name was called, clapping loudly and giving a whistle.
Derek’s ears went red and Stiles cackled.
After dinner, a makeshift dance floor was put in the middle of the room and holiday music played. Couples and groups got up to dance as Stiles sat chatting with his dad. Derek had wandered off at one point, but Stiles saw him across the room chatting with a group when he looked around for him.
Maggie and Bradley stopped by their table on their way out. Stiles gave Maggie an awkward hug goodbye, earning another pointed look from his father. Noah rolled his eyes at Stiles and left Stiles at the table alone, then, so Stiles just sipped his drink and watched the couples dance.
A throat cleared behind him. Stiles turned to see Derek standing there. “Hey,” Stiles greeted with a smile.
Derek smiled back, but he shifted on his feet a bit. Stiles sat up, about to ask Derek what was wrong, when -
“Do you want to dance?”
Stiles looked from Derek to the dance floor, where about a dozen people were swaying together. “Um, Maggie left, so we don’t have to…” Stiles said, even though deep down he could think of nothing better than letting Derek hold him close in front of all these people.
Derek looked around the room, as though he were looking for Maggie and Bradley. He sighed, offering what Stiles thought sounded like a sad chuckle.
“Maybe I want to,” Derek replied quietly.
Stiles was frozen for a moment, letting Derek’s words settle in his bones. Did Derek want what Stiles wanted?
He paused too long, it seemed, because Derek sighed again and started to turn away. Stiles hopped to his feet, grabbing Derek’s hand and stopping him from turning away.
“Yeah, me too,” Stiles said, voice just as quiet as Derek’s had been. Derek looked at him, hopeful, before motioning toward the dance floor.
They walked the few steps together before Stiles awkwardly raised his hands, unsure of where to put them. Derek’s chuckle was more amused, this time, as he guided one of Stiles’s hands to rest on his bicep (which most definitely did not make Stiles swoon, feeling the strength of Derek’s muscles there) and the other he held in his own.
Derek started swaying them to the music - an instrumental version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” - and Stiles just moved with him, face flushed. They moved slowly in a circle, Stiles feeling incredibly awkward, until someone bumped into him from behind.
When he stumbled, though, Derek just pulled him closer. Their chests were pressed lightly together now, and Derek’s stubble tickled at Stiles’s cheek.
Deciding to take the plunge, Stiles leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and focusing on Derek. Derek’s fingertips gripped at his back, holding him firm. Derek’s hand cupped his own, strong and soft. Derek’s breath ghosted over Stiles’s neck, sending goosebumps down his spine.
It was perfect.
The song ended and the moment was gone, though, as they stepped apart from each other and clapped with the other dancers for the music. Stiles stood awkwardly for a moment, glancing around before looking back at Derek.
“Ready to go?” he asked, unsure of what else to say.
Derek nodded, face unreadable.
Stiles waved goodbye to his dad and they left in silence, Stiles unable to come up with anything to say even in the car ride home. There were actually a million things he wanted to say, but his throat closed up around every one of them, nervous to ruin the friendship that he and Derek had built over the years.
Derek didn’t come around to open Stiles’s car door for him when they pulled up to his house, although he did get out to walk him to the front door. Stiles unlocked it before turning awkwardly back to face Derek.
“Ten stars for the perfect boyfriend act,” Stiles offered, immediately wanting to slap himself in the face. Derek’s eyes looked haunted at the statement. Stiles panicked, trying to backtrack. “I had a lot of fun, I’m glad we did this.”
Derek nodded, looking down. “Yeah, me too.” He shuffled his feet before looking back up. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
Stiles swallowed, realizing that if Derek turned to leave he would miss his chance. He gathered his courage, prayed that he wasn’t completely screwing everything up, and reached for Derek’s arm. “Wait -” he said, before stepping close, pressing their lips together tentatively.
Derek didn’t respond, in fact he was completely frozen in place, for a solid five seconds. Stiles’s heart pounded, realizing that he probably had, in fact, screwed everything up .
But then - just as he was moving to pull away - Derek breathed in through his nose and made a sound deep in his throat before kissing back. His hands came up to cup Stiles’s face, tilting it the way he wanted it as he opened his mouth, licking at Stiles’s lips to ask for access.
Stiles opened up to him, a whine escaping him when he tasted Derek for the first time - a perfect mix of cinnamon and Derek . Derek pressed into him as he kissed him, thoroughly and deeply, walking Stiles backward until he hit the trim of his front door. Then Derek pressed even further into him, plastering them together from knee to shoulder, still kissing him soundly.
Stiles couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t believe that Derek was kissing him like this. He’d never been kissed like this before in his whole life - it was like Derek was trying to fuse them together forever. Plus, Derek was a phenomenal kisser, lighting Stiles’s nervous system up from head to toe, mixing tongue and lips in a dance much more intense than their earlier one.
Finally, after what felt like years, Derek slowed the kiss, his lips leaving Stiles’s before nudging their noses together fondly. Stiles felt himself smiling, unable to stop it.
His eyes fluttered open and he saw Derek’s soft smile in return. They just stared at each other for a minute, Derek still holding Stiles’s face, until Stiles tilted his head toward his door.
“Want to come in?”
Derek’s smile widened, making his eyes twinkle.
“I’d love to,” he answered simply, letting go of Stiles’s face in favor of threading their fingers together as Stiles pulled him into his house and shut the door behind them.