It was snowing in Beacon Hills. Really snowing. It wasn't so unusual. It was just after Thanksgiving and it always grew colder in Northern California than it did in SoCal. Scott and Stiles loved the first big snow of the season. They would always bundle up and have the biggest snowball fight until Scott had an asthma attack or the Sheriff needed Stiles home. The last couple years had been different. Scott was a werewolf now. There was no bundling up. He would get too hot and always wore shorts. It was, if you asked Stiles, quite frankly, disturbing. Their last snowball fight was the year Scott turned and he had pelted Stiles so badly that he probably should have gone to the doctor. He limped home instead. He'd prefer that over what he's currently enduring.

The snow had probably given Beacon Hills about an inch of coverage when his Jeep brokedown about a mile from Derek's house out in the preserve. He cursed the man for moving back out there instead of his loft. In town. Next to the damn cellphone towers. But no. Derek went all sentimental after Cora was brought back into his life and then bailed on him again. He had started renovating the old Hale House.

Renovating was such a strong word.

The place was knocked down. Full on demolition that Stiles was certain they all acquired some form of black mold toxins and other pesticides from watching it crumble to the ground. Really, it was anticlimactic. That was this summer. It was finished now. Plumbing, electricity, solid flooring that wouldn't collapse beneath you, and heat. Stiles was longing for that heat.

He would be fine if he took Peter up on his offer. He would be warm and already at Derek's by now. He hated that intrusive thought, the one where he said yes like part of him wanted to. If he did say yes he wouldn't be feeling his toes freezing inside his boots and regretting his two layers of socks were his mix and match R2D2 and C3P0 pairs. His jeans were soaked up to his mid calf and his hoodie was in worse shape. He really relied on his Jeep to shelter him today. Not like the heat worked in it either.

Maybe it was time to get a new vehicle…

He checked for service on his phone. His hands were stiff and red from the cold. No such luck. The "no service" ticker really dampened his mood. He was about halfway to Derek's by now. He could make it. Derek would let him use his phone. Right? Maybe give him a ride home? Or at least a ride back to his car and help him fix it? Did Derek do favors? Or did Derek only receive favors through brute force?

Did Derek like the snow?

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't even hear or see the werewolf's FJ Cruiser stopped in front of him.

Derek got out of the car, leaving it running and the driver door open. He jogged across the road, shouldering off his leather jacket as he went.

"Stiles," he called out. No response. The teen didn't even blink at him. "Stiles!"

Derek wrapped his leather jacket around his shivering frame, pulling it snug around him. He finally stopped. "Stiles," he tried again, only a little softer, but not leaving a shred of worry out of his name.

"Derek?" The man in question nodded and waited for him to say more. "Derek, do you like the snow?"

It wasn't graceful. It lacked tact in every which way one was to look at it, but he wasn't left with any other option. He picked Stiles up, threw him over his shoulder, and carried him to the car. Once inside, with him buckled up and nodding off, Derek blasted the heat. It smelled from it's lack of use. His senses burned and he was sweating through his Henley, but what else could he do?

They drove the last half of a mile to Derek's house in silence. Stiles was asleep when they pulled up. He repeated the process of tossing him over his shoulder and carrying him. This time he was placed on Derek's sofa and covered up with a fuzzy blanket Lydia insisted he have. It wasn't the first time he wondered if the girl was psychic.

He quietly made his way to his bedroom to change his shirt. He then stepped into the kitchen to get started on something he was already planning on doing.

It was a snowy day tradition in the Hale House.

The first thing Stiles did when waking up was smell warm, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. The second thing Stiles did when waking up was stretch limb from limb and fall off… Derek's couch? Hard too! He took in his surroundings from the plush rug he fell on to the big window across from him. The rug was as soft as the blanket he was wrapped up in. Okay. So he was at Derek's place. He didn't remember arriving. There's no way in hell that he was smelling freshly baked cookies inside Derek Hale's house. He had to be dreaming!

The pain in his tailbone said otherwise.

Derek stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room. He was wearing a plain white apron. He had a plate of cookies in one hand and two mugs of steaming hot chocolate in the other. He set them down on an end table flanking the left side of the couch.

"I took off your boots and socks."

Stiles wiggled his toes inside his fleece blanket contraption. He remembered how cold his feet were as he walked further and further into the winter storm.

"One of those for me?"

"From the state you were in, you could have both of them."

"But what will you have?"

"There's a whole kettle more where that came from."

Ah. Their back and forth. Some would say it was called flirting.

Derek took a seat on the couch and Stiles righted himself by his side. But not too close! He was losing a fight with the blanket, trying to get it settled evenly over him when Derek snatched it away. The man closed the gap between them, pulling the blanket over their laps, and topping it with the plate of cookies. Stiles smiled at him.

Derek might still be a little warm from the drive home, because his cheeks were touched with pink as he returned the smile. "Cookie?"

Stiles took one straight into his mouth before the baker finished offering it. He munched happily as he looked out the window. The snow was still falling down. It touched everything with it's pure beauty, including Stiles' Jeep.

"I couldn't leave it there. How much more can the thing take?" He elbowed Stiles to show he was only kidding.

"Hey Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you like the snow?"

"Yeah, Stiles. I do."