Title: Dream A Freakin' Holiday Dream Of Me
Rating: PG 13
Characters/Pairings: Stiles/Derek, Sheriff/Melissa, alluded Scott/Allison, Lydia, OFC, OMC
Warning: FLUFF in extreme amounts! Also mentions briefly of sexual acts. Possible just in case TRIGGER WARNING of kinda-sorta being drugged.
Summary: In the process of getting Derek Hale the best birthday gift, Stiles is given some spiked tea and sees a glimpse of his future. What ever will he do? parents!Sterek! future!fic Christmas fic! birthday!fic
Author's Note: Gift for Ollie (catberrry on lj), for our Team Werewolf gift exchange! I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your name! This was supposed to be a small drabble...and it kind of exploded into this! It's not complete, or Betaed, but I wanted to make sure you got it it in time!
A sated and satisfied Stiles nuzzled the temple of his sleeping husband, curled around him in their soft, warm bed. He kissed the naked, sweat moistened skin of his mate's shoulder, smiling affectionately, as he got up from the bed. Slipping on his Star Wars bath robe, Stiles quietly, yet quickly, shuffled down the hall to take care of the noise that woke him up.
Walking into the room, Stiles followed the sounds of distress coming from the crib on the left side of the room.
Looking down with a fond smile, Stiles saw the culprit: a squalling baby with a trembling lip.
"Hey there champ, " Stiles said as he scooped up his tiny infant son, "couldn't wait til morning for Santa? Man, I know how you feel." The young father grabbed the yellow wolf cub blankie that the baby had kicked off with his petite feet, and wrapped it one-handed partway around the child crooked in his arm.
He kissed the top of a fuzzy head. "We can't wake your Papa and your sisters though, especially since your older sister has already been up once tonight. How about we go get you a fresh diaper, a nice warm bottle, and see if jolly Ol' Saint Nick has visited yet. Okay little guy?"
Lightly bouncing the, now less distressed hiccupping baby, Stiles peered into the other crib in the room. Sleeping soundly in the crib was his cherub cheeked daughter, the twin to the boy he was holding.
Tiptoeing out of the room and down the hall, Stiles gave a quick peep into his older daughter's room. The little girl was safely tucked in, moonlight highlighting the curve of her ear and one chocolate-brown curl, clutching her favorite doll in her small hands.
The family's well loved pet cat was hidden in shadow, but could be seen protectively sleeping at the foot on the young girl's bed. Quietly closing the door to barely a crack, Stiles walked the baby into the kitchen.
After a few minutes of preparing a bottle, changing a diaper, getting peed on by his strangely smug looking son, ("I swear, that look is purely your Papa's. You did that on purpose. You think it's funny, using Daddy for target practice, little guy?"), and placing the baby in the play pen to trade his wet robe in for a shirt and pajama bottoms, Stiles and his content baby boy snuggled in the rocking chair by the tree.
"Santa" had already placed his gifts under the tree for the children, so Stiles knew he could safely spend some quality time just chilling in the living room, having some guy-time with the youngest male in their family.
Looking at the wall, Stiles watched the multi-colored lights reflecting off the pictures on their walls, as his eager son sucked down his bottle. Years of happy memories were dancing with the Christmas tree lights, ranging from the large Pack-Family photo from two Thanksgivings before, to the sleeping pair of his Dad and Step-Mom holding their equally sleepy and drooling first grandbabies, to the off-center picture Scott took the night he proposed to his husband.
Stiles felt his chest expand in pride. Yes, he proposed-or well, proposed first. When he finally realized that it all was true, everything he had learned from that odd dream was actually real, and not actually a dream at all, but some funked-up spiced-tea induced magic, he ecstatically planned to make the man of his dreams officially his. He didn't find out until after he proposed that his mate had been planning to ask him, but kept chickening out due to nerves.
Ha! As if Stiles would not have said yes. In the end they both preferred Stiles doing the asking. Can't really be nervous the guy you want to spend the rest of your life with might say no if he asks you to marry him, right?
As Stiles rocked the pudgy boy in the green Grinch onesie his auntie bought him for Christmas, Stiles thought back on the things that happened earlier that evening. He knew things worked out, because he was still here, lovingly snuggled up a pint sized lump of pure love. However, he couldn't help but wonder and remember everything that brought him to this moment.
Seven years and three days earlier
"…and since there's no place to go, let it rain, let it rain, let it friggen rain!" Stiles disgruntledly sang as he kicked a stone on the side of the road.
When people thought of snow at Christmastime, they usually think of white, fluffy snowflakes falling, sledding down hills in the park, making snowmen on their front lawns, and perhaps catching some snowflakes on their tongues.
That was until they came to Northern California, particularly in the Beacon Hills region.
Instead of the fluffy snowflakes swirling magically in the air around Stiles, he was treated to the freezing cold rain, a tradition in Beacon Hills in itself as much as the tree in Town Square, chilled to the bone by the rain that was cutting through flannel like razorblades. Yes, while people (read: Scott) still hoped and prayed for snow, it was like Santa was dumping acid-flavored slushies on Stiles' head.
Still, Stiles thought as he crossed his arms tighter and shrugged his shoulders, as cold and drown-ratish as I am , there's no way in hell that I would rather be at home right now!
Don't get Stiles wrong, everything was fine at home.
Peachy keen.
He and his Dad happily managed to do a halfway decent decorating job on the Stilinski homestead, right after Thanksgiving. All the stockings, (ie, a plain red and white one for the Sheriff, a black and yellow Batman one for Stiles), were 3m wall hooked to the fireplace with care, and Stiles and Scott had fun making the customary Christmas cookies they made every year.
Well, customary for them.
Not many would think gingerbread mutants and peanut butter dinosaurs had anything to do with Christmas, but Mrs. Stilinski had been smart. She always managed to get the boys to help her bake by encouraging them to make "cool" cookies. Even though she was gone, the tradition still held. This caused some dubious looks over the years.
"Stiles, what is this?"
"Come on Dad, it's a Christmas Pterodactyl! See, you can see his jellybean hat and impressive delicious wingspan!"
"Scott. What am I eating?"
"Professor Xavier, Mom!"
"No, Sweetie, I meant the type of cookie. I can't tell by the amount of icing and sprinkles on it."
"Uh…I think gingersnap?"
So yes, all was surprising well in the Stilinski home, considering all of the supernatural happening that frequently occurred in the town.
So, why was Stiles walking down the street, three days before Christmas, in the pouring rain?
Well, there were actually a few reasons.
The first and most obvious reason: his Jeep broke down.
Yes, just Stiles' luck, his baby broke down half way to the shopping mall, in the freezing rain. Also his luck, he had left the house in such a hurry that he forgot his phone on the table, so he could not call for a tow or somebody to come pick him up.
Why did he leave the house in such a hurry? We'll get to that in a bit.
The second reason: Derek freaking Hale.
More importantly, Derek freaking Hale being a miserable martyr and not telling anyone that his birthday was on Christmas. Stiles got that little tidbit of information quite by accident earlier that day. While at the library with Lydia, Cora and Isaac, they decided to take a break from researching if the elves at Santa's Workshop at the Mall could actually be real elves, they gathered round to see the interesting Zodiac book Stiles found. After reading all of their signs, as well as Scott's, Lydia and Isaac decided to go get Starbucks while Stiles and Cora continued to look over the book. When Stiles was about to read Derek's sign, still believing that Derek's birthday was still November 7th like on the driver's license in the policefile, Cora stopped him.
"No, that's not right. Derek's a Capricorn." Cora had said.
When Stiles argued that early November's sign was Scorpio, Cora gave him a strange look.
"Early November? No, Derek was born in December."
That made Stiles pause. Why would Derek go to the trouble of having a fake birthday on his license, yet keep his real name?
"Early or late December?"
"Christmas Day. See? Capricorn."
Which lead to Stiles realizing that nobody but he and Cora…and possibly Deaton, knew that Derek's birthday was coming up. Thinking it over on the drive back home, Stiles realized that on top of everything else life handed Derek, he was a middle child who had to share his birthday with a manger baby. That thought of wittle Derek, with his cute bunny teeth and baby caterpillar eyebrows, getting birthday/Christmas gifts because it was the same day, made Stiles heart ache.
Scott, the most puppy-like Alpha to ever Alpha, insisted in the Pack doing a Secret Santa, to help them bond and to share in the holiday cheer. Stiles was lucky in drawing Lydia, because he had been shopping for her for years. All he had to do was walk into Macy's and find the most Lydia Martin-looking things, and poof, done! The strawberry blonde Goddess was going to receive the perfect combination gift of an amethyst and crystal necklace, and a state of the art graphing calculator.
Yeah, he was the man.
Scott however, had some trouble with getting his person-Derek- a good gift. Stiles was just going to let Scott figure it out on his own, until he saw that Scott was planning on giving Derek leather socks.
Leather socks? Those were a thing? Who the hell invented leather socks?! Who would want to buy them?
Scott McCall, that's who.
So Stiles gently intervened (read: whacked him upside the head), and suggested he get Derek that used copy of Le Petit Prince in the bookstore. (Derek could front all he wanted, but Stiles knew interested side-eyeing when he saw it.)
The good news was that Derek was going to at least get a Christmas gift he was going to like. The not so good news? Derek was probably only going to get a birthday gift from Cora, who dsaid she did all of her holiday shopping at the butcher shop, and had probably only received birthday presents from only Laura for years.
That tore it. Stiles knew he had to do something, and something special, to make sure that Derek had a good birthday.
This lead to reason number three: operation get-Derek-the-perfect-bday-present .
Aside from the book, Stiles was not really sure what to get Derek. With a stroke of genius, Stiles decided to stop by the house and ask his Dad for some advice. Afterall, his Dad was a dude too, he might have some better idea than getting Derek a singing card and a packet of car air freshener trees.
That turned out to be a horrible, terrible, brain bleach needing mistake!
Stiles was really happy for his Dad, he was. He and Scott had been shipping their parents for years, and were ecstatic when they told them that they were dating.
"Dad?" Stiles called from the front door. Walking in he kicked off his shoes, dropped his backpack on the couch, and put his phone on the coffee table. Before he could call out again, he heard a muffled noise coming from the kitchen.
Getting up cautiously, Stiles reached out for the lamp…only to feel fabric touch his hand. Pulling it to his face, he realized that there had been a shirt hanging on the lamp. Actually, it looked like the top of a medical scrubs uniform…
He heard a clearer noise that time. It was more like a groa-
Stiles eyes widened in horror.
"Oh dear holy sweet God NO!"
As much as Stiles loved his Dad and Melissa being together…a son should not hear the kind noises that his father and his father's girlfriend were making. In the kitchen.
IN THE KITCHEN! Where they ate food!
Flailing his hands and throwing the scrub shirt like it was on fire, Stiles was so spooked that he ran right out the front door, forgetting his phone he had placed on the coffee table.
That led to reasons number four: running out of his own house to pretend he did not hear his dad and his best friend's mom getting it on, (ewww), in his kitchen.
That Ladies and Gentlemen, was why Stiles was currently walking on the side of the road. He sent a thank you to whoever was listening that he made it back into town. Just as he was about to pass Whole Foods, he heard a voice calling out his name.
His actual name. Properly pronounced and all.
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