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Erica Reyes
Erica couldn’t hide her excitement as she lowered herself behind the driver seat, heart beating slightly faster than normal - even for a werewolf.
Stiles was calm at her side, not a hint of worry in his scent, just plenty of excitement. “You ready?”
She nodded, taking a deep breath.
Things had greatly improved for Erica, after she had taken the bite. Her epilepsy, which had plagued her for over sixteen years of her life was finally forgotten (barring a brief reappearing stint caused by the kanima venom), and she could finally live the life she had always dreamed of: the life of a normal and healthy teenage girl.
... If you ignored the bit about being a werewolf now and thus being stronger, faster, and having a better sense of smell than ever before.
She had gone from being the girl people always mocked or ignored to being one of the most popular and known girls in school, and Erica had been ecstatic at the sudden attention and health perks.
However, the thing about being a werewolf? You couldn’t really go around telling people. The idea of telling her parents alone terrified her.
At best they wouldn’t believe her, at worst they’d start a witch-hunt and have her committed in some hospital.
At the same time, without saying that she was a werewolf and therefore cured of the whole epilepsy mess, she was sort of stuck. Her parents would never take Erica’s word that she was cured, and proving it would mean going to one of her own special doctors and they would definitely notice something weird about her blood and healing rate.
Which meant that her parents refused to allow her to even try to get driving lessons because of the ‘risks’ she could run into.
Erica had screamed, cried, begged and everything in between, but they had not budged.
And she did understand, of course. They were being overprotective because they cared.
It still did not make it suck any less, though, so when Stiles had shown up a couple of hours after one of the aforementioned screaming sessions and had asked an upset Erica what was wrong, she had explained it to him.
She still had not expected him to offer this, however.
To offer to let Erica drive his car in the preserve, away from prying eyes, and with Derek in the backseat of the car in case they needed his help or something.
She smiled at him once more. “Just in case I crash and we die and I don’t get to say this,” she started, making Stiles snicker and ignoring Derek’s disapproving growl behind them, “I wanted to say thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me. I’ve been dreaming about getting the chance to drive and get a license for so long, but I had mostly given up on it, and you-”
“No need,” easily said Stiles with a shrug. “I might still come to regret it. Now come on. Show us what you got.”
She shot him a second smile, before sitting straighter and imitating the actions he and Derek had shown her earlier.
(they did not end up crashing, and even Derek awkwardly praised her for her skills after it all)
Vernon Boyd
When Boyd’s sister Alycia had still been alive, there was a tradition that the Boyd family used to partake in.
While they were not by any meaning of the word rich, the Boyd family was not bottom of ladder poor either. And his mother, devoted catholic that she was, had always preached the importance of caring for those who couldn’t care for themselves, no matter the reason.
“You never know when you might need someone else’s help,” she always said, and both Boyd and his sister had taken those words to heart. It was important to their mother, so it became important to them too.
After Alycia died, for a while, while he did accompany his mother on her runs, he had refused to go alone, no matter how many times the woman asked him to.
It just hurt too much. Those people had always loved Alycia more than they did him, because of her bright smiles and the excitement she managed to inject in every activity she participated in, while he preferred to stand a little more quietly to the side.
To go back alone? To try and spread the joy his sister did by himself and fail?
Boyd had not had the heart to do that, to see the disappointment and pity in people's eyes, and thus had refused to go.
He wouldn’t have gone this year, either, had it not been for Stiles bringing it up.
Apparently, the pack's favourite human and the one who always saw far more than people expected of him, had seen the Boyd family on their food distribution runs, a couple of times before during the Christmas/Winter period. He had noticed it, and then he had asked Boyd about it.
Boyd was not sure why he had confided his unwillingness to go alone to the brunet.
But there was just something about Stiles that had pushed him to open his mouth and explain himself. There was always that weird magnetism that only Stiles possessed, that thing about him that had somehow helped turn a group of conceited, power high and annoying teenage werewolves into an actual pack (Boyd had his suspicion, but everything he knew regarding pack dynamics came from Peter, and the man lied a lot).
And Stiles had listened, because that was what Stiles did. Sometimes it did not seem that way, because he liked to talk a lot (and say very little) but Stiles was a very good listener when he wanted to be.
And now here he was, unsure of how he got here, listening with half an ear as Stiles kept going on and on about one thing or the other, food made by his mother and himself carefully held in both of their hands as they went on the same rounds Boyd and Alycia used to go on.
The people they visited were most definitely confused when they opened their doors and were faced with the serious and well known Vernon accompanied by a loudmouthed white boy, but none of them complained - and Boyd would hazard to say that more than one of them had been oddly charmed by Stiles too. Stiles' presence alone was louder and brighter than his most maudlin thoughts and Boyd did not even have the chance to be upset about Alycia's death.
Alycia would have liked him a lot.
(Stiles’ face when Boyd thanked him at the end of the run was blinding. As was Boyd’s own when the other asked if he could join in possible future runs too)
(He said yes)
Isaac Lahey
“Hey, mom,” said Isaac, smiling slightly as he sat down in front of his mother's grave.
Isaac had been an orphan since the day his mother died. Sure, he might have been physically at his side, but Isaac knew in his heart that his father had died right alongside his mother.
The man had been a dick before she had passed away, but he had never been downright abusive until the day Marina Lahey had taken her last breath.
Isaac had used to blame her for it a lot, at the beginning. Had used to curse her for daring to kill herself and leaving him alone with the... monster his father had turned into after she had died.
But he knew it was not her fault, and that her mental illness was not something he could or should blame her for. His father had become as he had all by himself, and it was useless attempting to blame anyone other than him for it.
He just hoped she could ever forgive him for some of the things he had shouted at her memory when the abuse had first started.
“Things have been crazy, this year,” he continued, crossing his legs and looking at her headstone. It was a bit ruined from the elements, Isaac should come back soon to fix it up a bit. “But in a good way, for once. After you died and then after Camden died, I did not think I could ever be happy again. Then dad died - and I still don’t really know how I feel about that.”
Because he might have been a terrible father, but he had not always been that way. He had been the only father Isaac had ever known.
“But things have changed this year. I have made... friends, I guess. It’s a pack. Yes, like a wolf pack.” He could just imagine the face she’d pull if he said that to her face, and chuckled slightly. “At the beginning it was a big mess. Scott did not want to be part of it, Derek was trying but going about it in all the wrong ways, Jackson turned into this giant lizard thing instead of becoming a werewolf, Lydia was just acting plain weird, Allison kept trying to kill us all, and Boyd and Erica tried to run away.
“And then came freaking Stiles Stilinski,” he continued, unable to help the smile that crossed his face at the mention of the human. “Though we could say that Stiles was right there from the beginning, right alongside Derek, even before Scott. It just took us all a while to notice him.
“I used to dislike him so much, you know? At the beginning. Because somehow, even though he did not realise it, he was the sole member of the pack with an actual connection to everyone, and he was not even a werewolf. I think Peter asked him once, and Stiles actually refused.
“I was so jealous of him. Scott listened to him almost more than he listened to Allison, and he is the only one Derek actually listens to. I don’t know if he, Derek or the others realise this, but it has been that way for a very long time.
“So I hated him, because I was jealous. And for the longest time, I thought he hated me back. That he did not like me and that he suffered through me just because some members of the pack did like me.
“But I was wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “Even when I did nothing but treat him like a pest I had to suffer through, he looked. He listened. He cared.
“Everyone has been making preparations for Christmas since the holiday started, you know. I have celebrated Christmas a couple of times, after you died, because people don’t really treat it as a religious holiday anymore, but I also still celebrate Hanukkah, every year.
“And this year, I woke up to a bag of chocolate coins at the kitchen table. I knew they were from him even before Derek told me that he had left them for me the night before, before he left.
“It was a dig, a little bit. The pack has this running joke of ‘Oh, Isaac is the pack’s baby’, which is rude as hell considering I’m taller than all of them.” No, he had not whined the last part, that’d be proving the pack right and he’d never. “But also, it was him being the only one to look and learn enough about me that he actually figured out I was Jewish and what we celebrate. He’s so annoyingly caring, and... he reminds me of you, a little bit.” He smiled, a little bitterly. “You would have loved him.”
(He was not surprised to see Stiles waiting outside the cemetery when he was done. He didn’t ask him how he knew where to find him, and Stiles did not question him either; just drove them back to Derek’s loft)
Allison Argent
“Which one is this?” questioned Allison, tasting a bit of the batter with a frown on her face.
Stiles looked up from where he had been mixing. “Which bowl did you get it out of?”
“Pink one.”
“Nutmeg,” he said, turning to look at her hopefully. “Did we get it right?”
“Maybe?” she said, a little unsure. “It tastes right, but I feel like there might have been something else inside it. I know, I’m not being clear-”
“There are a lot of worse ways to spend time than trying to make cookies with my favourite Hawkeye kin,” he told her, winking. “If nothing, the pack is going to worship the ground we walk on when we show up with so many cookies and stuff.”
Allison smiled, once more feeling warmed to her core.
Stiles Stilinski was truly a person like few.
It had been chance, really, that had him at her house when she had been trying to get her dad to tell her mom’s old cookie recipe. Whatever her opinion on her mother’s actions and decisions might have been, she had still been her mom. Allison did miss her, but since she could not really talk to anyone but her father about it, she kept it to herself.
Cooking her Christmas cookies was supposed to be a way for Allison to channel her grief about their first Christmas without her.
Only for her to find out that her mother had never actually wrote down how to make those delicious cookies that were always the favourite Christmas tradition in the Argent Household.
She had made it with her often enough that she knew most of the ingredients she used, but not every one of them, and Allison had been ready to throw away the towel and resign herself to no more Victoria Argent signature cookies ever again, until Stiles had come in and offered to help her out figure what the missing ingredient or ingredients in the mixture could be.
“What about this?” he asked, handing her the bowl he had been working on. “I added some spices to the nutmeg, so-”
Allison’s following squeal cut him right off. She beamed up at him, joy in every line of her face. “Oh my god, it’s this one! This is exactly what mom’s batter used to taste like, Sti!”
“Yes!” he cheered, punching the air. “We did it. Stilinski and Argent, once more-” he cut himself off again, when Allison tackled him in a crushing hug, not crying but still feeling immensely emotional.
“Thank you.”
He hugged her right back. “Sure. What are friends for, after all?”
(the pack did indeed absolutely love the cookies they brought them. Allison got as much praise for them as Stiles himself did, despite her tentative position in the pack, which was warming. Though Stiles’ blush when Derek thanked him for them was even more cute)
Lydia Martin
“Lydia, my Lydia, love of my life, mistress of my heart-”
“What,” said Lydia, forcing herself to level a blank look at the other fellow human in the pack even though she was smiling slightly.
Once his whole obsession - not crush, that had never been a crush no matter what he told himself - with her had passed, Stiles turned out to be a pretty cool friend and a genuinely interesting person to be around.
He drowned it under crass comments and insolent quips, using the shield of humorous and sarcastic human sidekick to hide behind, but he was a very genuine, loyal and kind person to be around.
He was absolutely an asshole - both to the people he liked and the people he hated alike - but he was also caring, and he loved really fiercely.
Lydia had to admit, it was nice to be among the few that Stiles loved in that manner.
“Congratulations,” he informed her, sitting down in front of her and passing her his phone. “Can’t wait to see what your Christmas party is going to be like.”
Lydia frowned slightly, even as she took the phone he had handed her. Stiles should know that her mother had forbidden her from throwing a party at their house, this year. Lydia could attend someone else’s party if she so wanted but after the disaster that her birthday party had ended up being, she was no longer allowed to throw one herself.
Stiles should know this, since she had bitched about it often enough, so wh-
Derbear: Fine. Stop bothering me.
“What?”
“Scroll up a bit,” he huffed, and she did as told.
Me: come on
Me: derbear
Me: dersweetums,
Me: derrie,
Me: alpha my alpha
Derbear: what do you want.
Me: can we throw a party at your loft? specifically, can lydia throw a party at your loft?
Derbear: no.
Me: so you’d rather we go to someone else’s party with the spiked alcohol Peter gave us and get drunk there and cause possible problems and general mayhem?
Derbear: Peter did what.
Me: :D
Me: so can we? pretty please with a cherry on top?
Me: our lovely alpha?
Me: derrieboo?
Derbear: Fine. Stop bothering me.
Lydia looked up at him in shock. “What?”
He shrugged. “I’ll be honest, no one in the pack wants to go to Noemi’s Christmas party after what she’s been saying about you. We’d rather have our own, and Derek did not specify that we’d have to only invite pack. So...” he grinned at her. “What’d’ya say? Wanna throw a rocking Christmas party? Scott would help, he loves Christmas.”
Lydia did not know what to say.
She could only smile.
(she did not invite anyone but the pack. Many asked her for an invite, once they realised Lydia was indeed throwing a party, but, to be honest? No matter how they had started out, these were truly the only people she wanted to celebrate with. The party was still incredibly awesome.)
+ Derek Hale
“What are you doing?” questioned Stiles, stopping mid his stumbling towards the kitchen of the loft.
Derek shrugged, grabbing the paper plates and empty bottle left around with a slight grimace. “You guys are filthy.”
“We were gonna clean first thing in the morning,” protested Stiles, making no move of touching the mess and instead shuffling towards the coffee machine instead. “Where were you yesterday? You were invited.”
“I was here, at the beginning,” said Derek, picking up another trash bag. “But then I went off to look for something.”
Stiles turned to face him as the coffee machine started working, eyebrows wiggling. “Christmas present?”
“Yes, actually,” said Derek, smiling slightly at the surprised look on Stiles’ face.
“Uh. Did not think born werewolves believed in Santa or celebrated Christmas,” he said, looking at Derek with slight confusion. “Makes you seem almost... normal.”
“As opposed to...”
“The grr ferocious creatures of the night I know you to be,” said Stiles, mimicking claws as he fake growled at him.
Derek rolled his eyes, pretending he wasn’t fond when he said, “You’re an imbecile.”
“And you adore me, and could not live without me,” answered Stiles, winking at him before turning to the coffee machine.
“Yeah,” answered Derek, snorting when Stiles nearly lost his grip on the coffee cup as he whipped to look at him.
The human’s eyes were a little wider than normal, a mix of shock and confusion on his face. “What.”
“I said, ‘yeah’,” answered Derek, wiping his hands over his jeans and wincing internally at his own actions. Yeah, the pack was rubbing off on him, he thought as he pulled the small envelope from his inside jacket pocket. “I was going to wait until Christmas to give it to you, but...”
Stiles kept staring at him, still looking incredibly confused as he hesitantly took the small thing. “Is this like some sort of curse or an enchanted letter or-”
“Just open it, Stiles,” huffed Derek, crossing his arms over his chest.
He was pretty sure that the present and his words would be well received - Stiles was not that subtle - but there was always that possibility of him being wrong. Especially since he was pretty sure some of the things he had been doing had not even been that intentional on Stiles’ part.
The brunet’s expression remained the same until he finally opened the small package with deft and careful fingers. Then he pulled out the small frame inside of it, and Derek felt his heart clench at the way his eyes widened further, a gasp leaving his lips.
“Wait,” he said, throwing the envelop on the ground as he pulled out the frame fully from it. “Wait, is this... How... this is... when... uh?”
Gonna have to mark it on the calendar, the day I rendered Stiles Stilinski speechless, thought Derek, though he just shrugged. “It was in the vault. I did not know how they knew each other or how well, though I guess Peter might, if we ask him. But I found it and I -”
He did not manage to finish the sentence before Stiles was barrelling against him, still holding the frame with the picture of his mother as he hugged him much tighter than a human should be able to.
“Thank you,” he said, turning his head so that they were looking at each other in the eye. He was almost as tall as him, now. “You have no idea how much this means to me, dad just hid... thank you.”
Derek smiled back, if a bit awkwardly, at the pure joy and happiness in Stiles’ eyes when their eyes met. He wasn’t quite sure what to-
“This is the part where you kiss him,” came Lydia’s voice, and they jumped a little at it. Just to turn around - without Stiles letting go - to find the rest of the pack standing in the door, looking elated (Erica), slightly disapproving (Scott), still sleepy (Isaac) or a mix (the rest of them).
“What.”
“There’s even mistletoe on top,” added Allison, giving him an impish grin. “Come on, don’t leave us hanging.”
“I’m not kissing him in front of you,” answered Derek, not quite growling though his eyes were narrowed.
“What if they close their eyes?” asked Stiles, and Derek turned to look at the brunet who was smiling a little awkwardly, a slight blush covering his neck. “Will you kiss me then?”
Derek’s features gentled a little. “Maybe. Or better yet, when they leave. Can you wait till that?”
“No,” answered Stiles, and Derek could only snort as he pulled him towards him, pressing a kiss to his lips much to the cheers and boos from the rest of the pack.
Derek did not complain.
(Stiles showed up on Christmas with a birthday present for Derek. He was not even surprised that the boy had managed to find out about his birthday even though Derek had never actually told him about it.)
(He kind of loved him)