Chapter Text
It was supposed to be an ordinary Saturday morning. The sun was up, and the clear sky held hope of a rainless day in the otherwise rainy city of Bath, England. Children were running around and playing tag, one child sprinting about with his red and green colored kite as Derek walked into the opening of the park, blue scarf twirled around his neck way too many times due to his sister's scoffing of "don't be a baby, brother dearest, it's just a scarf. You'll freeze to death otherwise!" It was barely December. And around 5 degrees out.
Yeah, Derek was totally getting babied by his big sister.
As he rounded the corner of the end of the park, walked past an old couple pushing some children - probably their grandchildren - on a couple of swings, and crossed the busy morning traffic over to his favorite café, Beta's, he couldn't help but to feel like something was different about this day; like today was going to go his way. When he opened the door to the café, a bell chimed, signalizing that there was a new costumer.
The café didn't look any different from the last time he was here just a couple of days ago. The walls were still painted in soft nuances of soft brown and grey, and there were still tables made of dark wood, chairs and couches filled with way to many pillows because Erica had demanded that decorative pillows were a necessity in any cozy space. The whole cafe was mainly lit up by large sparkle lights that hung down from the ceiling in different lengths, giving a simple impression of the starry night sky.
Behind the counter where people placed their orders there was an image of a wolf pack painted onto the old wooden wall.
There were four wolves in the painting: an insistence on the owners’ part.
One had a fur the color of light yellow mixed with soft brown, laying on the green forest ground with distant light blue – nearly grey – eyes focused on the full moon in the sky above him, wondering, searching for something. Isaac had commended him for getting his eye color just right and Derek had downplayed it, saying that it hadn’t been overly difficult when it had actually taken him seven frustrating tries before he’d gotten the perfect combination.
The second wolf had dark brown colored fur and eyes almost alike in color as the fur. His head was resting on top of the first wolf's muzzle with a content look. Halfway on top of the second wolf was the third, and her fur was the complete opposite of her mate's, almost pure white with hints of soft yellow. Her eyes were almost the same color as her mate's: a dark maroon that seemed to brightly shine in the painting from where she laid half spread on top of her mate, nose resting in the crook of his neck. Derek had thought it was a fitting portrayal of Boyd and Erica's relationship.
The fourth and last wolf in the painting, not everyone could place. The regulars of the café and those who studied the painting standing in line for the cashier could normally recognize the other three wolves as the three owners of the café: Isaac, Boyd and Erica. But the last one, the last one was different.
He stood proud as a leader; a protector of the other wolves. His midnight black fur reflected in the moonlight and bright green eyes shone with a small ring of amber near the irises, keeping a watchful eye over his pack. But the wolf looked lonely, still. He hadn’t meant to paint the wolf that way, but he guessed his own subconscious was at fault for painting things as they actually were, even though he tried hide his own loneliness.
Derek shook his head. He didn't know why the others had insisted that he should paint himself into their painting as well – after all he wasn't a co-owner of Beta's, simply a good friend. "You're one of our closest friends, Derek, of course we want you up there with us!" Isaac had answered the one time Derek had voiced his thoughts on the matter.
"And besides," Erica had chimed at a later time when Derek had finished painting himself into the picture as their guardian and they were all sitting on the floor cuddled together like the wolves on the picture, staring at the finished work. “You insisted on painting this beautiful piece of art which took months, months Derek, of your time to make, and you wouldn’t even make us pay you. You could have spent all that time working on pieces to sell in order to make money for yourself, but you didn’t. It was the least we could do."
Boyd had given a soft sigh in agreement. "And you're family, Derek. Family sticks together," he gestured to the painting, "like a pack." None of the others said anything after that, they just sat in piece with each other for company and looked around at their new café, and at their lives beginning to make sense again.
Derek spared the painting, his painting, another fond glance before making his way properly into the café, giving a quick smile and a wave to the people he recognized. The weather was gloomy outside, but inside the Beta's it was warm and cozy with filled with just the right amount of people, and soft smells of coffee and freshly baked goods stirring in the air. Home, he couldn’t help but to think.
He stood in queue for the disk with only a few people before him in the line, and started on the tremendous task that was taking off his ridiculously well twirled scarf that his sister had put on him this morning. Laura had to get kudos on that – she was an incredible wicked scarf twirler.
Derek hadn't even remembered that they were supposed to be having breakfast together at his apartment that day, opening the door at seven in the morning in only his boxers and wearing a look that said he would maul whoever had disturbed his beauty sleep. Or at least, that was how Laura had described it, much to Derek's loud and tired disagreement.
So they made breakfast and ate together. Or, well… Derek tried to make breakfast but he burned the toast and may have started a tiny fire in his kitchen, but it was only tiny! (An improvement from the Hale Christmas of 2010, when their mother had forced Derek to help out in the kitchen. That was a complete disaster, but they don't like to mention it.) So after Derek's tiny accident, Laura took over since she was one of the more skilled cooks in his family, like his mother, Talia and his eldest brother, Michael.
So Derek wasn't very skilled in the art of cooking, but his hands had quite the touch when it came to painting, drawing and sculpting. He’d been called an art prodigy by family, and later by art critics, ever since he came home from first grade one day, holding a drawing from class.
Derek remembered them getting the task of drawing something that made them happy. Most of the other children had drawn shaky but simple pictures of butterflies, suns and smiley faces in bright colors. He, on the other hand, had drawn a wolf in detail with nuances of grey, standing proudly on top of a cliff overlooking the ocean.
At first, his kindergarten teacher had thought that her coworkers were playing a game on her, putting such a beautiful drawing into the hands of a seven year old to prank her, but when she tried to take the art piece away from Derek’s chubby hands he had screamed and cried and demanded his drawing back in a way only a child could. She'd called her coworkers over to her, and they were just as surprised as she was when they asked if Derek could draw them another pretty picture, and they got a detailed sketch of a lily back, and a small smile from Derek as he was happy to have so many adults paying attention to him. From an early age he and his sketch book were inseparable, and all it took was a piece of paper, a pencil and a small rubber to make Derek content through his childhood.
Now as an adult, Derek had several paintings in museum exhibitions spread across the world, and he had made enough money from selling his art that he probably didn't need to work again for the rest of his life, and still live comfortable. Still, he wanted to keep working, to learn new techniques and become a better artist. It was what he lived for, what made him happy, and he was pretty sure he would keep doing it until his hands started shaking with old age.
"Derek, helluuuuu. Derek, are you there, mate?"
A familiar voice brought Derek back from his thoughts, and he realized that the queue before him had disappeared. Isaac stood by the disk, waiting for him with a fond gaze.
He shook his head. "Sorry man, I was a bit out of it." Derek walked over to the disk and gave Isaac a fist bump and a grinning smile. He looked around the half-busy café and at the waitresses working there, looking for two particular known faces. "Where are the newlyweds?" Derek asked.
Erica and Boyd's engagement and later marriage hadn't come as a surprise for anyone. They had been head over heels for each other since High School, being basically inseparable for seven years until Boyd took the big step and went down on one knee right in the middle of their café on the day of their anniversary, asking Erica for her hand in marriage.
"It was about time," Erica had teased Boyd, all teary eyed, "I was beginning to worry that you'd never ask."
"I would have married you after our first date, babe, but I needed to know that I could support you in the way you deserve." Then the happy tears had started falling, and they hugged each other for a long time. Derek had almost felt the need to look away to give them some privacy, and when Boyd and Erica started making out like a couple of wild animals, he did turn away because come on, get a room! But he couldn't help his thrilling grin as Boyd put a golden ring on Erica's finger that day, feeling absolutely ecstatic for his friends.
Isaac gave him a smile and adjusted the apron hanging around his front, with the letter's "KISS THE COOK" painted in bright green colors on the otherwise blue cloth. Derek was very fond of that one. "Oh, they're at the hospital for their ultrasound. They're hoping to see the baby for the first time. Boyd is completely terrified," Isaac finished with a laugh.
"Yeah, I can imagine," Derek laughed. If he was going to have a baby with the fierce, but loving (though if he mentioned that to Erica she would most likely strangle him in his sleep) Erica he would be terrified too. "Being a father will do that to you, I guess."
Someone made a small "ahem!" behind them, and he could see the people behind him in the line waiting anxiously to get their morning dose of caffeine and some breakfast. He hurried along. "Anyway, remind them to send me a picture, yeah?"
"Of course, mate. Now, what can I get you today? The usual?"
Derek shook his head. "Naah, I'm feeling a bit different today, so I'll think I'll take something else. Do you still have that delicious pecan pie of yours on the menu?"
Isaac nodded and gave him a cheeky grin, "It's the best one in town."
"Yeah, I'll have two slices of that, a croissant and a cup of hot chocolate with cream, please." Isaac scribbled away on his notepad.
"Yeah, yeah that's cool. I'll just bring your food over to your usual spot when it's done."
"Actually," Derek interrupted, "I think I'll eat outside today."
Isaac crooked an eyebrow at that? "Really? You don't usually eat outside, man."
Derek gave him a small smile. "Yeah, just feeling like a change today," he repeated. "I've been having an artist block all week. I don't know what it is, but..." He paused. "But I think it'll help to be outside today." He shook his head thoughtfully. "Just this feeling," he told Isaac and shrugged.
"Sure man, coming right up. But let me check the weather reports first, all right? Don't want your drawings to be soaked with rain outside. I think the weather is good enough that you can sit on the benches right to the entrance." Isaac took out his phone from the back pocket of his phone and made a few swaps with his fingers on the touch screen, bringing up the weather reports for the week. He hummed thoughtfully. "There hasn't been reported any rain lately, so I think you're in the clear man. And there sure isn't going to snow any time soon," he huffed out a laugh, putting his phone back into his back pocket.
Derek laughed with him, starting on the huge job that was twirling his scarf around his neck once again. Yeah right, like it was going to snow, Derek thought. If it hadn't snowed in Bath in almost ten years it probably wouldn’t start now.
"The food will be ready in five."
Derek nodded to Isaac and grabbed a thick blanket from one of the chairs on his way out. He had a feeling he was going to need it.
**********
Stiles was so screwed.
Not the kind of screwed that leaved him glowingly boneless and out of breath with slick release spattered across his stomach or deep inside another man. No, not in that sense at all. Though that way would be much preferable to Stiles at that moment.
The way he was screwed had a much more bitter afterglow.
He was in fact so screwed that he had retorted to drastic measures.
He was running. (Or jogging, really, because it was eight o'clock in the morning and he hadn't even had his morning coffee yet. Even though he wasn't physically in bad shape by anyone’s standards it was still EIGHT O'CLOCK IN THE FREAKING MORNING and he wasn’t a college student anymore so he really did not have the energy to do anything productive at that time of day, least not run away from the crime scene like the big wimp he was.)
"God dammit why did it have to be today," he grumbled breathlessly to himself, making his way through a crowd of people and away from the couple behind him who he knew had seen him flee.
The blue knitted winter hat that he'd gotten as a birthday present from his grandma a few years back was starting to slide slowly off his head, creating a tickling feeling that shuddered down Stiles back, so he hastily took it off and shoved it in the pocket of his grey winter coat with a grunt.
It wasn't like Stiles hadn't expected to ever see Danny again: the town wasn’t that big and they couldn't avoid each other forever, though Stiles had really tried.
Therefore it was only to be expected that they might run into each other one day, only Stiles had daydreamed that when that day came he would have a hot boyfriend by his side to introduce to Danny while they had their awkward ex-boyfriend meeting conversation that was bound to happen. And then Danny would realize what a big dick he was for breaking up with Stiles in the first place and beg to get him back, but Stiles wouldn't take him back because he had a much hotter and better boyfriend than Danny, and Danny would have to live with that regret his entire life.
But of course that was only another one of Stiles many daydreams that was never going to happen with his luck in life. So when Stiles saw Danny in front of his favorite news stand for the first time since their break-up, holding hands with a man who seemed to be his boyfriend if the way they were flirting with each other was any indication, Stiles freaked and ran away. But Danny saw him.
So that was why he was slightly jogging (don't judge the man, he still hadn't gotten that coffee yet) straight through a choir singing Christmas carols, wincing and shouting behind him "Sorry!" as one nun started falling on top of the other like some weird domino pieces. If he hadn't been running (slightly jogging) he would probably have found the entire situation hilarious: a dozen of nuns laying on top of each other in the middle of the street, their hymn books scattered around them. Ok, scratch that, he still found it hilarious even if he was on the run.
Stiles looked over his shoulder and could spot Danny and his boyfriend helping the scattered nuns to stand.
Stiles rolled his eyes. Of course Danny would help the poor nuns.
He stopped as the crowd parted and took a look around him for an emergency exit. Stiles was in an open market square decorated with stone tiles and a big grey fountain in the center. Shops of every kind were placed around the edges of the market square creating a cozy look. There were always shops he could hide in, but with the luck Stiles had been having that day chances were that Danny would walk in, so he decided against it. Then there was only one option left.
Stiles had to find a boyfriend, and he had to find one fast.
There were a few people sitting on benches placed around the open area, but most of them were either really old and accompanied by their grandchildren, or couples sitting together and looking disgustingly in love. Stiles sighed. None of them would do for him, so he kept looking. Lots of cafés were open but almost no one was sitting outside, and why would they? The weather was freaking freezing. He couldn't really walk into a café and find someone either, no, it had to be public, on display where Danny could easily see it. He turned around and was about to find the nearest shovel so that he could dig his own grave to hide himself from the humiliation, when he saw him.
Stiles' head felt like it had just experienced a whiplash as he stared at the beautiful man sitting outside in the cold with outdoor clothes and a blanket thrown over his legs, a scarf twirled around his neck way too many times. In his lap he had a huge book with clear paper – probably a sketch book, Stiles guessed – and some pencils lying inside a pencil case on the table in front of him. The man’s focus was on the paper in front of him, and Stiles could see him biting his lip slightly in concentration as his hand moved the pencil over the paper with light movements.
Perfect, Stiles thought. He's absolutely perfect.
Stiles ran over to the man sitting by the entrance of the café named Beta's, and stood there awkwardly until the man looked up from his sketchbook and noticed him. Stiles' cheeks flushed from the running and the complete absurdity of the situation. It also didn’t help that the man was absurdly attractive.
The man looked Stiles over once before finding his eyes and asking in a polite tone, "Can I help you with something?"
"Yes, you can. Are you single?" Stiles hurried by saying, staring at the stranger.
The man put down his sketchbook on the bench he was sitting on and raised his eyebrows at Stiles. "Excuse me?"
"I said are you single? Yes no?"
The man was clearly surprised over such an abrupt question from a complete stranger, but he gathered himself enough to say, "Yes I am."
Stiles exhaled slowly in relief. "Are you gay?"
The man stood up now, staring at Stiles with his dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion like he was trying to figure out Stiles’ deal.
"Did Isaac put you up to this?" The man sighed and touched his jaw, forehead scorching. "I've told him countless of times, if I want to get laid, I'll get laid myself, I don't need his fucking help."
Stiles gave the handsome man another once-over and grinned. "Yeah, I don't doubt that at all, handsome. I just need to know if you're gay."
Handsome (which was what Stiles was calling the stranger in his mind, because hot damn) gave Stiles another stare. "Bisexual," he said begrudgingly and with a frown that did not fit in well with the rest of the man's outrageously hot appearance.
"Oh thank god." Stiles smiled, relieved, and stepped close enough that he could feel the man’s warm breath on his face. His eyes trailed down to the stranger's lips, gaze fixated. "I'm going to kiss you now, Handsome, and I would prefer it if you didn't hit my pretty face for doing so."
Any protests the man had were muffled by Stiles' lips on his.
Around them it started snowing for the first time in 10 years.