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Things have been good, y’know? Really good.
It’s been relatively quiet in the supernatural world, Derek’s moved out into an apartment that doesn’t have a hole in the wall (and one where nobody died - Stiles celebrated that fact), the pack is away at college and it’s just - they’re all finally happy. Derek’s happy, for the first time in years. He’s no longer ducking behind the cereal aisles to avoid the Sher—John and he no longer has to constantly look over his shoulder every time he goes outside.
Derek glances at his phone, thumbing at it as it takes him to the message group they have, a small glimmer of hope flaring in his chest. Maybe they remembered? But when he finally sees the message group, he glares at his phone, at the last few texts shared between all of them. There’re no other messages after the initial Christmas ones from earlier this day and the thin glimmer of hope dies out the longer he stares at the past few messages.
> Scott 10:28am: merry xmas everyone!
> Lydia: 10:30am: Happy Christmas! See you guys tonight!
> Malia 10:31am: Merry Christmas.
> Stiles 10:31am: GUYS IT’S CHRISTMAS. I LOVE YOU ALL. SEE YOU TONIGHT! <3
> Kira 10:32am: Merry Christmas xoxo
> Isaac 10:33am: Merry Christmas from France! Miss you guys!
> Allison 10:33am: Happy Christmas! See you tonight. We miss you too, Isaac!
Derek had sent out a text of his own - Happy Christmas - right away, thinking that maybe they just forgot and that they’d remember soon enough. But it’s almost eight hours later, mere minutes before he’s supposed to meet them at the Stiles’s house for a pack Christmas gift exchange, and there’s still nothing. He’s almost bummed out about this, not that he’d ever admit it.
They actually forgot his birthday.
Cora and Peter had remembered, of course - both had called him early in the morning just as he’d woken up to give their well-wishes but the pack had still forgotten and Derek was actually feeling a bit upset about it. But it’s - well, whatever - it’s not like people remember dates and times and occasions anyways. Stiles usually does, his mind points out unhelpfully, and yeah, that’s true. Stiles always remembers dates and times and occasions.
How hard is it to remember someone’s birthday that also falls onpossibly the biggest holiday of the year? The words Christmas Day and Derek’s birthday should be best friends by now. When he was younger, his favourite day of the whole year was his birthday. He’d hardly admit it now but because his birthday is on Christmas, the entirety of the Hale pack would gather at their house and celebrate both occasions with such fervour that it made Derek so happy. He’d be woken up early morning by Laura, Cora, and his little cousins jumping on his bed, demanding cuddles, and then drag him out downstairs where his entire family - all his aunts, uncles, his parents, grandparents - would be gathered and they’d sing Happy Birthday to him in the most obnoxious way possible. His mother would give him his birthday crown and he’d just sit there, taking in all the smiles and the grins and the playful shoving, surrounded by his family - his pack - and he’d just be so content. No other day could ever top his birthday.
So in some way, present-day Derek knows he’s being childish but it’s just that this is the first time he’s finally been ready to celebrate his birthday. Between the shit show directly after Peter bit Scott and helping Stiles deal with the aftermath of the Nogitsune’s actions and dealing with the occasional monster of the week, this is the first time Derek’s ever felt happy enough to actually do something on his birthday. That’s not so hard to ask, is it? And it’s not like they’ve never celebrated Derek’s birthday before.
Derek thinks about that for a second. Actually - huh - maybe they haven’t celebrated Derek’s birthday. Last year, a pair of vampires had stumbled on to Beacon Hills almost as soon as the pack’s final exams had finished so there wasn’t much of a holiday season. Christmas had been filled with everyone slowly recovering and healing from their wounds. The year before that, Derek had gone to visit Cora in South America for a few days and neither of them had felt like celebrating his birthday. Well, Cora had surprised him with a red velvet cupcake (his favourite) but that was it. A simple text from Peter, who now spent his days traveling through the Asian countries in hopes of finding his “zen self”, had filled Peter’s familial role.
His phone beeps.
> Stiles 6:45pm: You coming, Sourwolf? Everyone’s here, just waiting on you!
Derek scrunches his eyebrows at his phone. For a second he thinks he should just make up some excuse and refuse to go. All the Christmas presents he bought for everyone were already at the Stilinski house and had been for the past few days so it’s not like he needs to go. They can still open his presents without him. What a baby, Laura chides in his head. He sighs, agreeing. Also, Stiles would break his phone, and Derek’s, just to call him and text him and generally just annoy him into coming. Why deny the inevitable? They forgot his birthday; it’s okay. Christmas means being around the people he loves and just because they forgot doesn’t mean he should isolate himself from them. So he puts his big boy pants on and walks out to his car.
When he parks the car a few houses down, he can tell something’s wrong.It was too good to be true, his mind supplies. There’s dead silence emanating from the house. It’s only been 20 minutes since Stiles’s last text but Derek of all people is well-aware of what can happen in 20 minutes. Usually, there’s always noise; feet thumping up and down the stairs, the static white noise of the TV, or even John huffing grumpily at Stiles over his choice of dinner but there’s nothing today. Derek tilts his head to the side, hoping to at least hear heartbeats but there’s deadsilence and the house is dark. The hair on his neck immediately stands up and he shuts the car door silently.
He looks around, every cell in his body just on edge, ready to defend his town once again. By the time he reaches the front door, his claws and fangs are out. He twists the door knob as silently as possible, opening a crack just wide enough for him to slip in before shutting it behind him. It’s dark inside and he does a quick scan of the foyer but there’s nothing to go on. No scents, not even the barest hint. He glides forward but freezes when he hears the tiniest creak in the floorboards from the living room. A low growl emanates from within him and he turns towards the room, about to pounce when —
“SURPRISE!”
Derek roars before he can stop himself and then stills. He blinks owlishly at the crowd of people in front of him, Stiles and Scott at the very front holding a handmade banner with a crude Happy 25th Derek painted on it and the rest of the pack behind them. There’s an awkward silence for all of ten seconds before Stiles sputters into laughter and it’s not long before everyone else follows. Derek scowls at Stiles, who’s pretty much rolling on the floor laughing, and crosses his arms against his chest. It’s then that he realizes that he’s almost overwhelmed with all the noises and scents and heartbeats of everyone in the house along with the smell of the food wafting in from the kitchen and dining area. Charlie Brown Christmas is playing on the TV, ignored by everyone around him. That little shit, he thinks once he catches on.
He’s barely moved an inch before he’s swarmed by his pack as everyone comes up to him, gives him a tight hug, and whispers a solid happy birthday in his ear. His heart thumps loudly but none of the wolves comment on it, especially when John strides forward and says, “Happy birthday, son.”
Derek looks over at Stiles, who’s been the only one who hasn’t come forward to hug him yet and who’s looking at him with a fond expression on his face.
“Thought we forgot your birthday, Grumpy?” He asks softly, as he walks over. Derek shrugs feebly, cheeks reddening at the thought. He looks down at his feet, shuffling around and remembers that for the first time in a long while, he doesn’t feel awkward and tense that all the attention is on him. The others quickly clear their throats and start shuffling around them, muttering vague excuses, and in under a minute, the room’s cleared out. “Did we break you?”
Derek snorts, looks at Stiles through his lashes, who’s peering at him with wide, amber brown eyes, biting his lips. Like he has a reason to be nervous. Like he hasn’t somehow just made Derek so incredibly happy. “No, you didn’t break me, Stiles.”
“So this was okay?” Stiles asks nervously, glancing around them. “I didn’t know if you wanted to but I just - we just wanted to—“
“It’s perfect, Stiles,” Derek says softly. “You did this?”
This time, it’s Stiles who shrugs. “Well the whole pack really but—“
“You planned it, yes?” Stiles shrugs again, his fingers fidgeting in front of him. Derek’s lips curl up into a ghost of a smile and he grabs at Stiles’s fingers, pausing only for a second before pulling the boy to him and wrapping his arms around his lanky frame. Stiles is stiff for all of five seconds before he relaxes and winds his arms around Derek in return, holding at him tightly. Derek burrows into Stiles’s neck, nosing at him, breathing in his earthy, almost musk-like scent. They stay like that for what seems like years before Derek pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against Stiles’s, eyes closed.
“Thank you,” Derek murmurs softly. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to see Stiles’s face breaking out into a soft smile as he nods.
Derek inhales deeply, heart warming in content, as the smells of cider and candles and - is that red velvet cake? - and Stiles fill his lungs. But above all, it’s the irrefutable scent of happiness and love emanating from the boy he’s clutching tightly that makes him want to never let go.