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It had been a shitty year; the shittiest in fact, but as midnight approached on the last day of that annual abomination, Derek looked around at his pack celebrating the new year and resolved to do something different for the next one.
While it was a celebration, it was somewhat of a muted one as everyone was exhausted from the events of the last twelve months. Nevertheless, the passing of the old year provided a sliver of hope that the next year could mark the turning of a page and a fresh start. Derek, for one, certainly hoped so.
Nobody had much wanted to go out, so they congregated in Derek’s large living room, which essentially served as pack headquarters, with take-out and a case of wolfsbane champagne that Lydia had brought, to watch the festivities on TV.
Bodies spread across the floor and over the comfortably stuffed furniture that Stiles had insisted that Derek purchase what seemed like eons ago. It was the daytime equivalent of a puppy pile; everybody touching several other people in some form or another.
Kira sprawled across Scott on an armchair with Isaac leaning against it. Erica had her head in his lap while Boyd gently massaged her feet which were strewn in his lap. He was propped against the sectional sofa which held Jackson and Lydia and Derek himself, while Stiles sat on a beanbag between them. Unusually and without realising what he was doing, Jackson simultaneously draw random patterns on both Lydia’s and Stiles’ shoulders, each hand mirroring the other. Neither appeared to notice.
Derek could feel the warmth of Stiles’ back as he leant ever so slightly against Derek’s leg and Derek wondered what it would be like if he were the one to be etching invisible motifs on Stiles’ skin. He’d been wondering that a lot lately.
Stiles had always piqued his curiosity from the minute they first met in the preserve. Still, curiosity was one thing and lust had taken a little longer coming. It was Stiles’ scent that first set something off within Derek; that warm cinnamony aroma that emanated effortlessly from his skin. From time to time, it would seem spicier and Derek chased that scent, inexorably drawn to it. This, in turn, allowed him to play closer attention to Stiles’ physical attributes, the long legs and wide shoulders, muscled without being pumped. Pale, freckled skin and eyes like a lamp in the darkness. But the one thing that Derek found he could not take his own eyes from was Stiles’ mouth, constantly moving, either from talking or chewing something, with moist plump lips and a cupid’s bow that was made to be kissed by Derek. Soon enough, the matter was done and dusted, Derek loved Stiles, it was as simple as that.
As time ticked relentlessly towards a new dawn, Derek decided that he would wait no longer, and that the new year would signal a fresh start for himself and Stiles. As the bells chimed out to ring in the beginning of the year, Derek made a resolution: this would be the year that he kissed Stiles and finally cemented the relationship that he knew was just waiting for its moment.
The pack leaned across one another to hug and kiss each other, and whisper wishes of goodwill and optimism into receptive ears. Stiles, once he had thrown off an enthusiastic Scott, kneeled up and flung an arm around Derek’s neck to pull him down to his level.
Derek felt soft lips graze his cheek and Stiles murmured “Happy New Year, Sourwolf, it’s got to be better than the last one”. He was on the point of taking the bull by the horns and Stiles’ face in his hands and planting one on him when Erica pulled Stiles away to give him a bearhug. Derek felt the warmth leech from his legs and the moment was gone.
Hours later, as the pack started to drift away, Derek found Stiles in his kitchen, loading the dishwasher and placing the leftovers in the large fridge. As Stiles rinsed out glasses in the sink, Derek contemplated pressing up against him, surrounding and trapping him in his arms and gently dipping his head to scent that delicate curve between shoulder and neck. He took a step towards Stiles, then another one, just the island to negotiate now, when Scott bounded in.
“Can you give me and Kira a lift please Stiles, Lydia’s gone and everyone else is staying here tonight?”
Stiles turned and grabbed a dishtowel to dry his hands. “Of course, won’t be a minute.”
As he passed Derek on the way out, he smiled at him. Derek clapped him on the shoulder.
“Happy New Year, Stiles. I hope this one brings you everything that you wish for.”
“I hope so too, Sourwolf, I hope so too”, he responded wistfully.
Derek ruffled his hair as he passed and if his fingers lingered as long as possible between the soft strands until Stiles was gone, who would have noticed?
Three days later and Derek and Stiles were out in the preserve while Stiles, as emissary, renewed the wards on the pack territory. It was the first time they’d been alone together since the new year and Derek was convinced that the outing would allow him the perfect opportunity to tell Stiles how he felt and complete his resolution. So convinced, in fact, that he had no urge to hurry, just to enjoy his time with Stiles and marvel at how natural it seemed to watch Stiles chant the incantations as the faint glow of magic passed from Stiles into the land they protected.
Derek thought that after Stiles had placed the last ward, he might take Stiles’ hand as they walked back to Derek’s house. Perhaps he would rub his thumb gently over the back of Stiles’ hand and Stiles would turn to him as he listened to Derek telling him how much he was needed. Perhaps he would lean in as Derek nuzzled him, prior to placing the briefest of kisses on his lips. Perhaps he would insist on deepening the kiss…
“What the Heck?” exclaimed Stiles, breaking Derek out of his daydream. Derek could see that the last ward Stiles had placed was glowing a sickly shade of green.
“We’ve got pixies”, Stiles told him, “C’mon, I need to get back and fetch some sage to boost these wards before they really start causing some mischief around here.”
With that, Stiles strode off back in the direction of town and Derek found himself running to catch up, never mind leisurely strolling back with a loved-up Stiles in his grasp. Derek sighed.
The pixies were relatively easy to deal with, Stiles returned with the requisite herb which had the effect of keeping the creatures at bay for as long as the wards held. Derek failed to get his kiss though.
Over the next few weeks, Derek strived to catch a moment alone with Stiles but found him impossible to pin down. Firstly, Stiles travelled to the next state to help another pack’s emissary with a treaty. Then work kept him busy and perennially in the company of others. Derek wondered if he might ever have the opportunity to lay his heart bare to Stiles, but he held his resolution close in the hope that it would come good eventually.
Being a deputy in the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department meant that Derek knew when Sheriff Stilinski was on shift and being an observer of Stiles’ daily habits for the last god-knows-how-long, meant that he was also aware of when Stiles might be having a rare ‘me’ day.
The first occasion these two days coincided after the new year was a Saturday night late in January, so Derek hit the diner, purchased some burgers, curly fries and shakes and knocked on Stiles’ door with his junk food booty.
“Hey Dude”, said Stiles when he answered the door, “Watcha got there?”
It was a redundant question because even a non-wolf could detect the odour of fried food.
“I haven’t really seen you in a while and thought we could catch up over dinner.”
“Well, come on in then”, said Stiles grinning and gesturing inside.
Derek followed him into the kitchen. Stiles was wearing sweatpants and Derek had an inkling that he was going commando underneath. How he longed to reach out and cup Stiles’ ass in his large hands, particularly when Stiles bent down to fetch a couple of plates from a cupboard. They would fit perfectly, those twin globes of Stiles’ behind, Derek knew with some certainty. They would feel firm but giving as he squeezed them and parted them to reach Stiles’ inner core.
Derek portioned out the food and sat down at the kitchen table opposite Stiles. If he stretched his legs out, he could feel the graze of Stiles’ sweatpants against his jeans-clad shins.
“The Olivier pack was happy with the treaty then?” He enquired as Stiles’ took a bite of his burger and greasy fat dribbled down his chin.
“They sure were”, confirmed Stiles, “It wasn’t easy, but we got there in the end.”
“Here”, said Derek, reaching out and catching the globule of grease, “You’ve got a little something…”
Derek resisted the opportunity to suck that droplet from his finger, instead wiping it on a napkin with some regret. Stiles eyed him curiously.
“Good”, continued Derek, “We need to build strong pack ties with our neighbours.”
“Never mind building strong ties within our own pack”, commented Stiles, giving Derek the opening that he had been looking for.
“Speaking of that, there is something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about”, Derek said, leaning in towards Stiles.
“Really?” Stiles stared at him, gaze open and a slight smile on his lips. And was that Derek’s imagination or was Stiles also drawing closer.
“Yeah, you see, the thing is, I…”
“Stiles!” The front door crashed open and the Sheriff came blundering into the house.
“Can you find me a clean uniform, I had to dig Greenburg’s patrol car out of a ditch and this one’s filthy with mud. Oh, hey Derek!”
Stiles got up from the table, placing his empty plate by the sink. “Sure Dad, I think there’s one in the laundry room.”
Yet again, Derek could see that his ideal chance had escaped him.
“I’ll get out of your way, we can talk some other time, Stiles.”
Stiles looked back at him, seemingly regretful. “If you’re sure?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s not that important.” Derek lied but there were no other werewolves in the room to challenge him on it.
As he drove away, Derek wondered if this was the universe trying to tell him something. Four times now, he’d been on the point of kissing Stiles and four times, fate had intervened to prevent it. It was a good job that Derek hardly believed in fate.
Every Sunday there was an informal lacrosse game at Beacon Hills High School for alumni. Most of the pack usually took part, circumstances allowing, even Derek, though it had not really been his game during his time there.
It was friendly but rough and Derek found himself on the opposite team from Stiles this time.
Stiles was a whole order of magnitude better than he had been during his school days, No benchwarmer now, he darted between players with elegance and speed and set up several of his team’s goals.
Derek, due to his size, commonly played a defensive role in these games but he found it difficult to challenge Stiles as he did not wish to cause him injury.
Stiles ran at him as the last line of defence and Derek hunkered down trying to make himself the obstacle between Stiles and the goalmouth. Despite the helmet, Derek could see the gleam in Stiles’ eye as he fast approached him. In this inevitable game of chicken, Derek lost as Stiles feinted to his left and shot the ball past both Derek and the goalie into the goal to the cheers of his team-mates.
It was pretty much the last move of the match and after only a few minutes more, the referee blew the whistle on the game. The teams mingled together, celebrating and commiserating dependent on the result for them.
“Hard luck Der-bear”, said Stiles as he took off his helmet and shook out the sweat from his hair. A couple of drops of which hit Derek, bringing with them the natural aroma of Stiles and all that that meant to Derek. He was thankful he was wearing his cup, as otherwise, his incipient boner might have become all too apparent.
As the players started to head towards the locker room, Derek volunteered to collect the equipment. It would give him time to calm down prior to changing.
Derek finally made his way inside as the first of the players were leaving the school. He waved goodbye to those that had to rush to other commitments.
Many of the rest were changing back into their day clothes after showering and as Derek put the equipment into store, the numbers remaining dwindled. Derek stripped off his kit and wrapped a towel around himself as he entered the showers.
He wasn’t the last, at least two other showers were still running although one was turned off as Derek entered the room to come face to face with a dripping Stiles, towel barely concealing him from the waist downwards.
Derek watched a drop of water fall from a hank of Stiles’ wet hair to trail meanderingly down Stiles’ chest and ultimately get soaked up by the towel.
“You never really played lacrosse in school, did you?” asked Stiles.
Derek shrugged, talking was the last thing he wanted to do.
“You need to learn to body check, you shouldn’t be scared of it”, counselled Stiles, sagely.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Derek was still transfixed by the relentless drip drip of water carving trails across Stiles’ body.
Stiles grinned, “You couldn’t hurt me, I’m too fast for you!”
The wolf in Derek took this as a challenge, but before he could show Stiles exactly how fast he could be by pulling Stiles against him, towel or no towel, Greenburg exited the other shower.
“Ewww, no homo”, he exclaimed, leaving the locker room as Stiles and Derek sprang apart.
Derek entered the shower last used by Stiles and if he scrubbed himself a little too harshly, the redness would soon fade.
When he too finally hit the locker room to get dressed, he really was the last one left.
The last Friday of the month was always pack movie night, and by tradition, was held at Derek’s house. There wasn’t much for Derek to do, as host, he only had to provide adequate snacks and drinks, the pack would often bring more.
So, he was a little surprised when the doorbell rang at around four in the afternoon. Several hours before he was expecting anyone.
A quick sniff in the air told him from the spicy scent that Stiles was on the other side of the door but for the life of him, Derek couldn’t fathom what he wanted.
Stiles bowled into the house when Derek opened the door, arms full of bags of chips and sodas which he immediately went into the kitchen to put away, save for a bag of cheese puffs and a Dr Pepper.
Derek still stood in the doorway; arms folded across his chest. “Umm, you’re a little early?”
Stiles patted the sofa next to where he had sat down. “I’m proud of you, big guy, you’ve finally learned how to punctuate!”
“Early”, Derek restated, flatly.
Stiles expression turned serious. He waited for Derek to close the door and sit down. Derek had maintained a suitable gap between them.
“I’ve noticed recently”, began Stiles, “That you seem to want to discuss something with me, but we always get interrupted. I thought I might give you the opportunity to get it all out there.”
“Oh”, said Derek, kind of surprised by Stiles’ forthrightness, “Well…”
He wasn’t exactly prepared for this but then again, he hadn’t really been on any of the previous occasions that he’d nearly kissed Stiles.
Stiles smiled, his eyes gleaming and the air turned a little thicker with his cinnamon scent.
“The thing is”, Derek began, “I made a resolution, On New Year’s Eve, I made my first resolution.”
He paused to consider how best to inform Stiles of the nature of that resolution.
“OK”, said Stiles “What was the resolution?”
Derek edged a tiny bit closer to Stiles and reached over to finally take his hand.
”You see, I fell in love with you. Somewhere between kanimas and pixies, I fell for you, hook, line and sinker. Completely, absolutely and irrevocably and I never told you, so I resolved that this year I would tell you and more than that, I would kiss you, like I’ve wanted to do for so long now.”
Derek realised that he was indeed stroking the back of Stiles’ hand with his thumb whilst speaking, and more importantly, Stiles was letting him.
“Oh”, said Stiles, sliding closer to Derek, “A bit like me then, I fell in love with you too, between all those monsters of the week.”
With his other hand, Derek cupped Stiles’ cheek bringing their faces closer together.
“So, can I fulfil my resolution now?” asked Derek.
“You can”, replied Stiles tipping his head to just the right angle.
Derek leaned in and ever so gently touched his lips to Stiles’. Stiles’ lips were soft and warm and felt like heaven. “Love you”, he whispered to Stiles.
“Love you too, Sourwolf”, Stiles whispered back and true to Derek’s earlier imagining, deepened the kiss and more.
Unsurprisingly, that night’s movie plans got postponed until later…much later…