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chase_acow
This, I don't know, but here it is. : ) There might be more later on if I can figure out how to do it without turning Derek into a giant walking weremarshmallow. I wished we lived in a better world were good things happened to good people, and everything could be fixed by a hug or a helping hand.
The Angel Tree Werewolf
Derek/Stiles
Alternate Universe
G
2700 words
“Oh good, the peppermint squad is out,” Derek said as the closest red and white striped lunatic smiled and took a step toward him with the candy cane held out. He sneered and the entire group immediately scattered, almost taking out an elderly couple walking hand in hand.
“Derek, stop it!”
His head jerked up at his sister’s tone. She’d put enough of an Alpha command in it that his teeth snapped shut, narrowly missing his tongue. Derek was surprised she’d do it in public. There was that instant need to placate his Alpha, but sometimes, he still fought it because his Alpha was his sister and so many years of sibling rivalry didn’t just lie down to die. He flexed his jaw from side to side trying to put as much irritation as he could into the gesture.
“What? You’re allergic to peppermint anyway,” he said, wadding a napkin up between his fingers as he avoided her eyes. He was glad he'd never be Alpha, he couldn't imagine having the patience to deal with knuckle headed betas like him.
He’d come up to the mall to see her and eat Chinese food for their standing Tuesday date. Laura owned and worked in a bakery on the second level, so she got to take a break whenever she wanted. It was nice to know he had the time to be with her when he didn’t live out with the rest of the pack. The two weeks he'd crashed on their couch because his building was in the middle of fumigation had ended in a lot of blood and tears.
Laura sighed, and slurped the last bit of her chocolate malt. “That’s not the point, Derek,” she said. “You don’t have to be so mean just because it’s getting closer to Christmas.”
“What are you talking about?” he scowled, hunching a little in his jacket. The broken in leather wouldn't defend against teeth, claws, or words, but it had been his father's and he knew every crease and every patch. “We hate Christmas.”
“You hate Christmas, kid,” Laura said, though her eyes were much softer than her voice. She swept a hand through her long dark hair, and tugged on the ends. “I came to terms with it. I want to remember how it used to be. I want to smile when I remember mom and dad, and their goofy caroling, and the time Peter tried to deep fry a goose.”
Derek scowled, flinging the memories away with a jerk of his head. That was all in the past, and remembering it wouldn't bring his family back. Laura was all he had, all he needed, even if the reverse wasn't true. She deserved whatever she wanted, he didn't deserve anything that fell his way. "You never minded it before," Derek said, aggressively gathering their trash together on his tray.
"The pack's larger now, the kids are getting older," Laura said, as she pushed away from the table and stood. "It's my responsibility to give them a normal childhood. I don't want the fire to be the only thing I am."
"How nice for you," Derek growled, feeling his body flush hot. He stood up, but hunched when she stepped close to him.
“I don’t want to be miserable every time I see you, either Derek,” she said, putting her hand on his chest. “If you can’t be happy, then maybe you should try giving someone else a little bit of joy.” She nodded significantly to the side where the giant evergreen tree stood beside the skating rink.
He let her go, watched until she disappeared over the top of the escalator, and then heaved a huge sigh. Derek knew he was lucky he still had a place in her pack, but knowing he needed to be grateful and actually feeling it were two different things. The thought of going omega terrified him, but he also couldn’t make himself fit into the pack that Laura had made. She was right. He was stuck, still covered in ash and afraid to ask anyone for help.
He walked over to the concourse ignoring the squad of teenage elves the mall hired to cheer the place up and hand out candy. They watched him with wide eyes and quickly skirted around the edge of his reach. Derek felt a brief stab of embarrassment. He hadn’t realized he had terrorized them so completely in the last three years. It wouldn’t hurt to look at the tree and see if he could give some cheer to someone. Between his part of the family trust and his job, he had more than enough to share.
A handful of paper angels adorned the tree, one of the most well known holiday programs in town to provide for impoverished kids. He was surprised there was still any left since it was already well into December. He pulled one down and rolled his eyes at the list of demands. What child needed a flat screen tv? Another listed a two hundred dollar pair of designer shoes, and more makeup than a beauty pageant could go through. They were all like that, from the six year old to the sixteen year old, and Derek rolled his eyes. He'd go make a donation, but someone else could fight the crowds in the stores.
So much for that idea to break his Christmas blues.
He turned to head back to the exit near the movie theater and his camaro. He’d spend the night in his dark room developing pictures and then no one would be able to see his tiny, black heart to poke a stick at it. He knew Laura only wanted what was best for him, but he should have known it would be a waste of time. The last person he reached out to had burned his life and his entire future down around his head. Maybe it was best he life out his life as a lone wolf.
As he turned to walk away, the heel of his boot slipped against something. Derek looked down and spotted the halo and half a wing from one of the Christmas tree angels. His boot print obviously wasn’t the first, and the paper was crumpled, torn, and missing the string to hang it on a branch. He stooped to pick it up, brushing some of the grit away so he could see it better.
The number 439 took up most of the top, the script in permanent marker with an adult’s flare. The rest was a child’s handwriting and looked like a labor of painstaking love, even if the pencil was now mostly a smeared mess.
Dear Santa, for Christmas this year, I would like a book about wolves. And please stop Sarah Palin from killing wolves in Alaska. I think she sucks. I also need a new coat because I don’t want my dad to have to spend money on it. And maybe a Star Wars Lego set. My dad could use a new friend too. I think he's lonely. With Love. C.
It was the best letter he’d read from the tree, and he couldn’t believe it was still there. Small and mistreated, it felt like the letter had been written for him. He folded it carefully and slipped it in his back pocket. He already had a couple of ideas.
Derek repositioned himself and snapped another picture of the float going by. There was a woman standing on top, in something that was supposed to be a gingerbread house, while two dozen teenagers dressed as fruit danced on the flatbed truck below her to keep from freezing. It was a stupid, gimmicky photo-op, but apparently the woman had won some kind of reality show and that’s what the newspaper wanted. He snapped several more pictures, noticing that she was doing a terrible job lip-syncing to the noise blaring out of the speaker system.
He’d only taken the assignment because it would be useful to have the editor owe him a favor on down the line. Normally he tried to stick to nature or still life, the things that wouldn’t expect conversation or throw a fit if he was more concerned with composition than the subjects comfort level. He did all right with freelance and the prints he sold from the website one of Laura's betas set up for him. He enjoyed the process and it kept him both busy and out of the day-to-day life of the pack.
The annual Christmas parade of lights was nearly over. Finally. He had enough shots for the newspaper, but for some reason he thought maybe if he hung around he could find something for him too. It was like an itch right between his shoulder blades that he couldn’t scratch. That sixth sense hadn't steered him wrong before, and besides, the only thing waiting for him at home was leftovers to warm up.
On the sidewalk in front of him, a toddler threw herself to the ground wailing about something her mom wouldn’t give her. Derek flinched as the cry rose an octave and one little fist pegged him in the shin as he tried to skirt around them. That broke his last nerve, and he decided he’d cut straight through to his car and retreat to his loft apartment. It was cold, but for once there was no wind, and a soft snowfall was encouraging people to stay out instead of running inside to huddle at their heaters.
He passed a kiosk selling tiny little snow globes with Santa, and stopped short. Somewhere ahead he could smell his apartment, the combined scent of the pack carried with Laura's perfume. He furrowed his eyebrows and twisted to the side to avoid being trampled by a Great Dane dragging her person behind her. Derek stepped out into the street, holding his camera in front of him as an excuse. His eyes darted around the crowd until he spotted a little boy jumping up and down with excitement.
The child was wearing a coat with an oversized hood drawn up around his head. The coat was brown and black with creamy white stripes highlighting the sides and under the arms. At the top of the hood, two wolf ears stood up, perked and interested as if he was listening to everything around him. Derek knew that coat, he'd bought it.
When he'd finished shopping for his Christmas tree angel, Derek had wound up with a giant pile of clothes, wolf plushies, wolf books, snacks, and a remote control helicopter because it was freaking awesome. When he went to drop it all off at the center, he'd also made a donation so all the angels would get what they needed, even if not necessarily what they wanted. On the way out of the mall, he even tried to smile and wave at one of the elves. The elf had quickly hidden behind the giant mascot orange handing out smoothie samples.
He knew that coat because he'd held onto it the longest, touching the ears and thinking about how much his baby sister Natalie would have liked it. In the end, he'd placed it on top, knowing that a child so interested in wolves would love to have the ears of one. The boy seemed to be enjoying it too, if the wide grin on his face was anything to go by.
He was missing a front tooth, and kept poking his tongue into the hole as he smiled and pointed at floats passing him by. Derek knelt down and pulled his camera up, snapping pictures of the boy trying to catch a snowflake on his tongue. A tangle of multicolored Christmas lights caught in the background, and Derek knew that would be the best picture he took.
Derek let the crowd movements draw him closer to the parent and child. They matched each other well, and not just the buzz cuts he noticed when the boy’s hood fell backward. Their smiles were the same, lifting the corner of their eyes, and it twisted something inside Derek. His chest felt heavy, and he wanted to get close enough to hear them speak, and maybe bump into them. Laura would make so much fun of him if she ever heard about this creepery.
It happened so quickly, that even with his reflexes he almost missed it. The dad turned to say something to someone behind him, and the boy suddenly darted out into the street intent on something he saw on the ground. What he didn’t see was the horse spooking right toward him. Derek held his camera to the side with one hand and swooped the boy up with the other, turning at the last second to take a kick from the rider’s boot in his back.
“Oh my God, are you alright?”
The man grabbed for his child, and Derek quickly let him go, not wanting his arm to get stuck awkwardly between them. The crowd around them stared and quietly muttered to each other. Derek snarled at them, bent to pick up the small bag sitting at their feet, and then put his hand on the small of the man’s back to guide him away from the mess. By that time the boy had started sniffling, more upset by his father’s reaction than he had been by the horse nearly kicking him.
He stayed as close as he could, using his body to huddle the two of them close to him. He might be embarrassed later, but he leaned close to smell them, memorizing the scent of their laundry detergent, soap, the warm spice from baking, and irritatingly enough a claim staked by a housecat. He couldn't smell emotions as well as some other wolves could, but even he could the boy was well cared for and healthy while the man was stressed and tired.
“I forgot my bag,” the man said, skidding to a stop on the sidewalk and trying to turn around. His eyes were wide, and he was still breathing hard enough to lift his chest as if panting. “It’s a present for my dad.”
“I have it here,” Derek said, as he blocked the path back and tried to nudge the pair forward again. The coffee shop was close, and he wanted them to sit for a little bit before he let them out of his sight. “Let’s go this way.”
An outgoing couple held the door open for them, and Derek aimed for the only empty table in the small shop. It was warm, the music soft and upbeat, and the smells were already making Derek's mouth water. He waited until he had the pair seated against the wall, quietly reassuring each other, and then he went to the counter to order drinks and snacks.
"Here you go," he said, handing the boy a hot chocolate, and a super caffeinated sugary drink to the man. He put the tray in the middle of the table filled with a mismatch of muffins and breads from the display case. All three of them could use an artificial pick-me-up.
"Thank you. And thank you so much for grabbing Colt. I don't know what I would have done," the man took a cautious sip, and then finally grinned happily again and took a longer drink. He unwound the scarf from his neck and slipped his gloves off. His fingers were long and still red from the cold as he wrapped them around his drink. “It’s been awhile since I had something this terrible for me.”
"Your name is Colt?" Derek asked, tipping his head to the boy slurping his drink happily. His feet didn’t quite reach the floor and he swung them back and forth as he watched Derek and everyone else in the shop.
"I named myself!" Colt said, reaching for a cookie and stuffing half in his mouth. A few crumbs escaped and he chased them across the table before licking his fingers.
Across from Derek, the man shrugged, and rubbed his hand across Colt’s head. "It's kind of a thing we do,” he said, holding out his hand to Derek. “My name is Stiles."
Derek took the offered hand and smiled, relieved when the two of them smiled back.
The Angel Tree Werewolf
Derek/Stiles
Alternate Universe
G
2700 words
“Oh good, the peppermint squad is out,” Derek said as the closest red and white striped lunatic smiled and took a step toward him with the candy cane held out. He sneered and the entire group immediately scattered, almost taking out an elderly couple walking hand in hand.
“Derek, stop it!”
His head jerked up at his sister’s tone. She’d put enough of an Alpha command in it that his teeth snapped shut, narrowly missing his tongue. Derek was surprised she’d do it in public. There was that instant need to placate his Alpha, but sometimes, he still fought it because his Alpha was his sister and so many years of sibling rivalry didn’t just lie down to die. He flexed his jaw from side to side trying to put as much irritation as he could into the gesture.
“What? You’re allergic to peppermint anyway,” he said, wadding a napkin up between his fingers as he avoided her eyes. He was glad he'd never be Alpha, he couldn't imagine having the patience to deal with knuckle headed betas like him.
He’d come up to the mall to see her and eat Chinese food for their standing Tuesday date. Laura owned and worked in a bakery on the second level, so she got to take a break whenever she wanted. It was nice to know he had the time to be with her when he didn’t live out with the rest of the pack. The two weeks he'd crashed on their couch because his building was in the middle of fumigation had ended in a lot of blood and tears.
Laura sighed, and slurped the last bit of her chocolate malt. “That’s not the point, Derek,” she said. “You don’t have to be so mean just because it’s getting closer to Christmas.”
“What are you talking about?” he scowled, hunching a little in his jacket. The broken in leather wouldn't defend against teeth, claws, or words, but it had been his father's and he knew every crease and every patch. “We hate Christmas.”
“You hate Christmas, kid,” Laura said, though her eyes were much softer than her voice. She swept a hand through her long dark hair, and tugged on the ends. “I came to terms with it. I want to remember how it used to be. I want to smile when I remember mom and dad, and their goofy caroling, and the time Peter tried to deep fry a goose.”
Derek scowled, flinging the memories away with a jerk of his head. That was all in the past, and remembering it wouldn't bring his family back. Laura was all he had, all he needed, even if the reverse wasn't true. She deserved whatever she wanted, he didn't deserve anything that fell his way. "You never minded it before," Derek said, aggressively gathering their trash together on his tray.
"The pack's larger now, the kids are getting older," Laura said, as she pushed away from the table and stood. "It's my responsibility to give them a normal childhood. I don't want the fire to be the only thing I am."
"How nice for you," Derek growled, feeling his body flush hot. He stood up, but hunched when she stepped close to him.
“I don’t want to be miserable every time I see you, either Derek,” she said, putting her hand on his chest. “If you can’t be happy, then maybe you should try giving someone else a little bit of joy.” She nodded significantly to the side where the giant evergreen tree stood beside the skating rink.
He let her go, watched until she disappeared over the top of the escalator, and then heaved a huge sigh. Derek knew he was lucky he still had a place in her pack, but knowing he needed to be grateful and actually feeling it were two different things. The thought of going omega terrified him, but he also couldn’t make himself fit into the pack that Laura had made. She was right. He was stuck, still covered in ash and afraid to ask anyone for help.
He walked over to the concourse ignoring the squad of teenage elves the mall hired to cheer the place up and hand out candy. They watched him with wide eyes and quickly skirted around the edge of his reach. Derek felt a brief stab of embarrassment. He hadn’t realized he had terrorized them so completely in the last three years. It wouldn’t hurt to look at the tree and see if he could give some cheer to someone. Between his part of the family trust and his job, he had more than enough to share.
A handful of paper angels adorned the tree, one of the most well known holiday programs in town to provide for impoverished kids. He was surprised there was still any left since it was already well into December. He pulled one down and rolled his eyes at the list of demands. What child needed a flat screen tv? Another listed a two hundred dollar pair of designer shoes, and more makeup than a beauty pageant could go through. They were all like that, from the six year old to the sixteen year old, and Derek rolled his eyes. He'd go make a donation, but someone else could fight the crowds in the stores.
So much for that idea to break his Christmas blues.
He turned to head back to the exit near the movie theater and his camaro. He’d spend the night in his dark room developing pictures and then no one would be able to see his tiny, black heart to poke a stick at it. He knew Laura only wanted what was best for him, but he should have known it would be a waste of time. The last person he reached out to had burned his life and his entire future down around his head. Maybe it was best he life out his life as a lone wolf.
As he turned to walk away, the heel of his boot slipped against something. Derek looked down and spotted the halo and half a wing from one of the Christmas tree angels. His boot print obviously wasn’t the first, and the paper was crumpled, torn, and missing the string to hang it on a branch. He stooped to pick it up, brushing some of the grit away so he could see it better.
The number 439 took up most of the top, the script in permanent marker with an adult’s flare. The rest was a child’s handwriting and looked like a labor of painstaking love, even if the pencil was now mostly a smeared mess.
Dear Santa, for Christmas this year, I would like a book about wolves. And please stop Sarah Palin from killing wolves in Alaska. I think she sucks. I also need a new coat because I don’t want my dad to have to spend money on it. And maybe a Star Wars Lego set. My dad could use a new friend too. I think he's lonely. With Love. C.
It was the best letter he’d read from the tree, and he couldn’t believe it was still there. Small and mistreated, it felt like the letter had been written for him. He folded it carefully and slipped it in his back pocket. He already had a couple of ideas.
Derek repositioned himself and snapped another picture of the float going by. There was a woman standing on top, in something that was supposed to be a gingerbread house, while two dozen teenagers dressed as fruit danced on the flatbed truck below her to keep from freezing. It was a stupid, gimmicky photo-op, but apparently the woman had won some kind of reality show and that’s what the newspaper wanted. He snapped several more pictures, noticing that she was doing a terrible job lip-syncing to the noise blaring out of the speaker system.
He’d only taken the assignment because it would be useful to have the editor owe him a favor on down the line. Normally he tried to stick to nature or still life, the things that wouldn’t expect conversation or throw a fit if he was more concerned with composition than the subjects comfort level. He did all right with freelance and the prints he sold from the website one of Laura's betas set up for him. He enjoyed the process and it kept him both busy and out of the day-to-day life of the pack.
The annual Christmas parade of lights was nearly over. Finally. He had enough shots for the newspaper, but for some reason he thought maybe if he hung around he could find something for him too. It was like an itch right between his shoulder blades that he couldn’t scratch. That sixth sense hadn't steered him wrong before, and besides, the only thing waiting for him at home was leftovers to warm up.
On the sidewalk in front of him, a toddler threw herself to the ground wailing about something her mom wouldn’t give her. Derek flinched as the cry rose an octave and one little fist pegged him in the shin as he tried to skirt around them. That broke his last nerve, and he decided he’d cut straight through to his car and retreat to his loft apartment. It was cold, but for once there was no wind, and a soft snowfall was encouraging people to stay out instead of running inside to huddle at their heaters.
He passed a kiosk selling tiny little snow globes with Santa, and stopped short. Somewhere ahead he could smell his apartment, the combined scent of the pack carried with Laura's perfume. He furrowed his eyebrows and twisted to the side to avoid being trampled by a Great Dane dragging her person behind her. Derek stepped out into the street, holding his camera in front of him as an excuse. His eyes darted around the crowd until he spotted a little boy jumping up and down with excitement.
The child was wearing a coat with an oversized hood drawn up around his head. The coat was brown and black with creamy white stripes highlighting the sides and under the arms. At the top of the hood, two wolf ears stood up, perked and interested as if he was listening to everything around him. Derek knew that coat, he'd bought it.
When he'd finished shopping for his Christmas tree angel, Derek had wound up with a giant pile of clothes, wolf plushies, wolf books, snacks, and a remote control helicopter because it was freaking awesome. When he went to drop it all off at the center, he'd also made a donation so all the angels would get what they needed, even if not necessarily what they wanted. On the way out of the mall, he even tried to smile and wave at one of the elves. The elf had quickly hidden behind the giant mascot orange handing out smoothie samples.
He knew that coat because he'd held onto it the longest, touching the ears and thinking about how much his baby sister Natalie would have liked it. In the end, he'd placed it on top, knowing that a child so interested in wolves would love to have the ears of one. The boy seemed to be enjoying it too, if the wide grin on his face was anything to go by.
He was missing a front tooth, and kept poking his tongue into the hole as he smiled and pointed at floats passing him by. Derek knelt down and pulled his camera up, snapping pictures of the boy trying to catch a snowflake on his tongue. A tangle of multicolored Christmas lights caught in the background, and Derek knew that would be the best picture he took.
Derek let the crowd movements draw him closer to the parent and child. They matched each other well, and not just the buzz cuts he noticed when the boy’s hood fell backward. Their smiles were the same, lifting the corner of their eyes, and it twisted something inside Derek. His chest felt heavy, and he wanted to get close enough to hear them speak, and maybe bump into them. Laura would make so much fun of him if she ever heard about this creepery.
It happened so quickly, that even with his reflexes he almost missed it. The dad turned to say something to someone behind him, and the boy suddenly darted out into the street intent on something he saw on the ground. What he didn’t see was the horse spooking right toward him. Derek held his camera to the side with one hand and swooped the boy up with the other, turning at the last second to take a kick from the rider’s boot in his back.
“Oh my God, are you alright?”
The man grabbed for his child, and Derek quickly let him go, not wanting his arm to get stuck awkwardly between them. The crowd around them stared and quietly muttered to each other. Derek snarled at them, bent to pick up the small bag sitting at their feet, and then put his hand on the small of the man’s back to guide him away from the mess. By that time the boy had started sniffling, more upset by his father’s reaction than he had been by the horse nearly kicking him.
He stayed as close as he could, using his body to huddle the two of them close to him. He might be embarrassed later, but he leaned close to smell them, memorizing the scent of their laundry detergent, soap, the warm spice from baking, and irritatingly enough a claim staked by a housecat. He couldn't smell emotions as well as some other wolves could, but even he could the boy was well cared for and healthy while the man was stressed and tired.
“I forgot my bag,” the man said, skidding to a stop on the sidewalk and trying to turn around. His eyes were wide, and he was still breathing hard enough to lift his chest as if panting. “It’s a present for my dad.”
“I have it here,” Derek said, as he blocked the path back and tried to nudge the pair forward again. The coffee shop was close, and he wanted them to sit for a little bit before he let them out of his sight. “Let’s go this way.”
An outgoing couple held the door open for them, and Derek aimed for the only empty table in the small shop. It was warm, the music soft and upbeat, and the smells were already making Derek's mouth water. He waited until he had the pair seated against the wall, quietly reassuring each other, and then he went to the counter to order drinks and snacks.
"Here you go," he said, handing the boy a hot chocolate, and a super caffeinated sugary drink to the man. He put the tray in the middle of the table filled with a mismatch of muffins and breads from the display case. All three of them could use an artificial pick-me-up.
"Thank you. And thank you so much for grabbing Colt. I don't know what I would have done," the man took a cautious sip, and then finally grinned happily again and took a longer drink. He unwound the scarf from his neck and slipped his gloves off. His fingers were long and still red from the cold as he wrapped them around his drink. “It’s been awhile since I had something this terrible for me.”
"Your name is Colt?" Derek asked, tipping his head to the boy slurping his drink happily. His feet didn’t quite reach the floor and he swung them back and forth as he watched Derek and everyone else in the shop.
"I named myself!" Colt said, reaching for a cookie and stuffing half in his mouth. A few crumbs escaped and he chased them across the table before licking his fingers.
Across from Derek, the man shrugged, and rubbed his hand across Colt’s head. "It's kind of a thing we do,” he said, holding out his hand to Derek. “My name is Stiles."
Derek took the offered hand and smiled, relieved when the two of them smiled back.
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