For @ravenwolf36 who is one of the nicest people I have ever interacted with. Thank you so so much for your patience (and I am so sorry this took fifty years). I’m incredibly glad you stumbled across my blog ❤️
In the end, it was Kira who managed to break Derek’s resolve. Stiles didn’t know why he was surprised. She was a badass trickster kitsune after all. And a member of the extremely tight friend group he liked to jokingly refer to as ‘the three musketeers.’ The first time Derek heard the title, he’d looked torn between smirking and scowling. Kira just fist bumped Boyd, then started talking about getting matching leather jackets. The had three clicked sometime after high school graduation and were pretty much inseparable.
So, through the power of friendship (and adorable puppy eyes), Kira convinced Derek to reveal the recipe for wolfsbane liquor. It was a secret that Derek refused to share because he was a responsible alpha. Or so he claimed. But now that everyone was twenty-one, Kira wanted to have a proper birthday celebration.
Derek gets a text from Stiles around 3 o’clock that afternoon.
“Need you to come over.”
Derek rolls his eyes when he sees it. What trouble did the kid get into now?
“Why?” he responds.
“Stop asking questions. It’s important. Hurry up. And use the front door”
Derek pulls on his jacket and heads over to the Stilinski’s.
He hesitates at the front door for a moment, more used to using crawling through Stiles’ window when he goes to him for help. He presses the doorbell and Stiles opens the door almost immediately. Derek is hit with several delicious smells all at once, coming from the kitchen
Stiles looks a tiny bit frazzled and doesn’t quite meet Derek’s eyes as he stands in the doorway.
“Oh, hey, Derek, come on in,” Stiles says, waving an arm wildly indicating that Derek should follow him.
“What’s going on?” Derek asks, confused, but Stiles just keeps walking and leads him into the kitchen. The Sherriff, Mrs. McCall, Scott, and Isaac are seated around the kitchen table. A giant turkey sits in the middle, surrounded by cranberry sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and a few kinds of pie.
“Hey man!” Scott calls out to Derek with a goofy grin.
Derek turns toward Stiles. “What is this?”
“It’s Thanksgiving dinner!” Stiles responds, clapping him on the shoulder. “Take a seat.”
“You invited me here…for Thanksgiving dinner?” Derek asks slowly.
Stiles reaches an arm up and scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, well, we had too much turkey, and I didn’t want it to go bad, or go to waste or anything, so…”
Derek just stares at him, until the Sheriff cries out, “Boys, I’m starving, will you please sit down already?”
Stiles sits down in the seat by his father, and Derek warily sits down next to him and Scott’s mother. Scott and Isaac are seated opposite the table from them.
They all start eating and Derek is cautious at first, not sure what his role is. He remembers the last time he celebrated Thanksgiving, with Laura, in New York, years ago now. The first year after the fire they tried to recreate their family’s old traditions and recipes, but it left them feeling hollow. Every year after that, they’d just gone out for Chinese, tried to brush away all the feelings that came with that holiday. This year he was just going to avoid thinking about it altogether.
As the meal goes on, Derek slips into a more comfortable state, answering all of Mrs. McCall’s questions about werewolves, smiling slightly at the way Scott and Stiles banter with each other. Derek doesn’t miss the way he feels Stiles glancing over at him every few seconds, or how he almost drops the gravy when their elbows touch as he passes the bowl to Derek.
After dinner, they play scrabble and Stiles is so proud of himself when he manages to spell out “Wolf.” Derek makes Stiles double over in laughter when he adds “Were” to the front of it, pulling himself into the lead.
“What an alpha move,” Stiles jokes, shoving Derek’s shoulder with his own, and Derek rolls his eyes with a smile.
As the night wears on, the McCalls and Isaac eventually leave, and the Sheriff heads off to bed, leaving Derek and Stiles alone in the living room, lit up cozily by the lights to the Christmas tree Stiles insisted on putting up the day after Halloween.
Derek hears Stiles’ heartbeat pick up a bit when the Sheriff retreats upstairs, and Derek stares at his own hands awkwardly. “Thanks,” he finally manages to grunt out, lifting his eyes slightly to meet Stiles’.
Stiles looks away and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, I just didn’t want the turkey to go bad, you know.”
He brings his eyes back to Derek’s and Derek shakes his head. “You didn’t have to..” he trails off.
Stiles’ gaze hardens. “You shouldn’t have to spend any holidays alone, Derek. You have a pack. You have me us-you have me.” He places a hand on top of Derek’s briefly, before he seems to realize what he’s doing and tries to withdraw.
As Stiles’ pull his hand back, Derek grabs it, and gently laces his fingers through Stiles’ own.
“I know,” he whispers, looking at Stiles with a warmth that echoes the warmth that’s burning in his heart.
theproblemwithstardust 