I'll Always Know It's From You (A Sterek Novella)

Chapter 5

Derek's POV

When Sheriff gets back, Stiles and I have the TV on, The Nightmare Before Christmas playing, my arm over Stiles' shoulder, and his body close to mine, but not too close to reveal anything.

Luckily we didn't break his table earlier. 

I was worried half-way through we might have, but luckily I pulled back from my wolf powers just in time, leaving the table in one piece. 

Again, luckily.

"I'm back!" His Father announces, closing the door and switching on the kitchen light, the sound of plastic bags being set on the table overpowering Jack feeling sorry for himself after he ruined Christmas, one of my favorite scenes.

Stiles slips out from under my arm, his body temporarily blocking the view of Jack lying down on the stone angel, the wings of the angel matching onto Stiles' back.

The sight makes me smile, realizing that yes, my boyfriend is an angel. Hell he's stayed with me for over a month so far, so I should give the boy some credit.

I pause the movie and stand, following the sound of the two males talking in the kitchen, plastic bag movement once again covering the audio happening.

The kitchen is sprayed like a Christmas bomb just exploded in it: bags and bags filled with Christmas decorations and candy.

"Are we aiming for Christmas flavored diabetes? Because I think we're right on the money there." Stiles asks, his Dad chuckling in response.

"No, I just wanted this Christmas to be a special one." He turns to us, his eyes twinkling. "Now are we going to get this thing going or do I have to do it all by myself?" He adds, authority and police force coming into him.

Stiles seems startled but nods, shifting to help his Dad unpack the plastic bags that the Christmas bomb made.

"Are you going to help or just stand there looking pretty?" I hear a voice speak, and my eyes focus again, Stiles giving me a 'help me' look.

I'm about to say something when Stiles' Dad, who's currently putting the oven on, speaks. "Yes that would be splendid! You are a part of this family too Derek."

His words hit my heart, shocking me. I see Stiles smiling out of the corner of my eyes, nodding along to the Sheriff's words. No response is made by me, my actions doing all the talking as I put one foot in front of the other and make it to the table where Stiles stands, plastic bags still accumulated on its surface, he like barely dented despite what's already been taken out.

Plus I think I would stutter if I spoke, and there's nothing more I hate than looking like an idiot or sounding like one.

My thoughts make me chuckle, Stiles' eyes shooting daggers at me. I'm momentarily confused until I realize what he must think I'm thinking about.

Oh my god he thinks I'm thinking about me fucking him on this table. Now that's hilarious.

I have to hold in my laughter, my teeth biting down on my lips, physically trying not to burst with laughter.

I guess we all know what he's thinking about.

Typical of him.

That thought sends me over the edge, my laughter filling the silence fallen room, Sheriff looking at me from the counter.

"What's so funny?" He asks, Stiles' face turning red as he expects the worst answer.

"Oh nothing, I was just actually telling myself a really funny joke. It was really stupid and that's why I couldn't help but laugh." I give the Sheriff a half forced smile, making Stiles sigh with relief, and his face reddening less.

"I would ask what the joke is but I have a feeling I don't want to know." The Sheriff responds, going back to focusing on his task at the counter.

Stiles leans towards me. "That was a close one." He whispers, his lips forming a weak smile.

I nod, trying not to laugh again, making him think that that was what I was thinking of. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Stiles coughs, a notation he's going to change the subject.

"So Dad, what are you doing over there?"

I was so right. 

I know this boy so well. 

More than he thinks I know. 

I did watch him for a few years before Scott became a werewolf.

The Sheriff doesn't turn around as he answers his son. "I'm attempting to make some cookies. I'm in a baking mood."

"A baking mood? Dad you can't bake. And anytime you've tried, it just always comes out burnt!" Stiles' words hold panic as he stands and makes quickly over to his father to stop a catastrophe before it happens.

"See? They're coming out good!" His father swipes away his son, laughing, Stiles just quickly shaking his head and scratching his neck.

"Alright...but if we get salmonella it's your fault." Stiles grumbles, returning back to the table, only a few bags left to unpack of decorations.

"Technically I can't get salmonella, so it'll be all on you." I chuckle and finish the bag I'm on, setting the empty one aside on a chair, on top of the other empty white plastic holders.

Stiles shakes his head, rolling his eyes slightly "Oh hush." 

"I saw that."

"Saw what?"

I half-stand and reach across the table, grabbing Stiles' chin, forcing him to make eye contact with me as I make my eyes shift. "The eye roll you just made." I put a growl ever so slightly into my words, highlighting my wolf voice.

Stiles swallows hard as sweat collects on his upper forehead, his eyes widening ever so slightly, his heart rate soaring, his body squirming under my eye contact.

"Sounds like someone made someone a little pisseddddd." Sheriff comments from the counter, putting the cookie batter onto cookie sheets as the oven heats up.

Stiles pulls away from my touch, leaving me smirking. Stiles puts himself to work finishing up unloading the bags, all the contents of them on the table. He stands, grabbing all the empty grocery store bags, and moves to the closet in the hall adjacent to the kitchen. He searches for a minute, then stuffs all the bags into a large white plastic canister, designed to hold plastic bags. Stiles closes the door and re-enters the kitchen as the oven beeps, indicating it is up to temperature.

The Sheriff motions to Stiles to come help him, and his son only nods and walks over, passing me without so much as a glance in my direction.

He hasn't looked at me.

Why?

Is he mad at me?

I wasn't even harsh with him a few minutes ago.

Grr he can be so childish at times.

I guess later I'll have to make it up to him.

I'm sure he would like that.

He sure looked like he was enjoying earlier.

Heh.

My thoughts leave me smirking as I watch a son and father finish putting Christmas tree shaped cookies onto two metal cookie sheets, using oven mitts to set them on the top and bottom shelf. Sheriff puts the timer on for them, closing the oven door gently, throwing the oven mitts on the counter and turning to his son, and then me, an actual smile on his face, lighting up his older features.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, isn't it?"