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stereksecretsanta · 7 years ago

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Merry Christmas, @aflailureandamasterpiece!

I know you like lots of Angst, except I'm uh...very bad at that; so here's a compromise with some Light Angst. I hope you like it!

Read on AO3

*****

So we stay in this mess, this beautiful mess tonight

Stiles’ grandfather - deeply religious, incredibly annoying - had told him God had given him a soulmark, but then realized he didn’t deserve it and took it away. Stiles’ dad comforted him, saying Grandpa had lost his marbles. Stiles doesn’t blame him. They all went crazy after the accident happened. Grandpa lost his daughter, and gave up on filtering his words. Dad lost his wife, and drowned himself in whiskey. Stiles lost his mom, and with her, the desire to speak.

His dad stopped taking him to his grandpa, choosing to leave Stiles home and visiting by himself, something Stiles was completely fine with. He felt guilty enough about the accident all by himself without Grandpa putting the blame on him, or inviting God into the equation.

The fact that he would never see his soulmark didn’t even occur to Stiles until much later. The scars scattered over his arms serve as a constant reminder of the night the car turned upside down, and somewhere underneath them are the first words his soulmate will speak to him.

After a while, it stopped bothering him. It was a flawed system anyway. Not everybody has a soulmate, people with soulmarks don’t always find their soulmates, and even if you do, there’s a chance a drunk driver crashes into you and you only get to spend twelve years together.

---

Stiles stumbles down the stairs with a yawn and accepts the coffee Dad hands him when he walks into the kitchen.

“Sleep well?” Dad asks, and Stiles nods and smiles. He signs, ‘Thank you’, before grabbing some bread.

They’ve had plenty of fights in the past, of course. Dad got frustrated that Stiles refused to talk, took him to a multitude of doctors and therapists to find an explanation but they all told him the same thing. Selective mutism caused by trauma, and it was completely up to Stiles when or if he would ever talk again. They eventually agreed to both learn sign language so they could communicate when needed. Still, Stiles didn’t like to use it often, preferring to listen to his dad talk while nothing was expected of him.

He fixes up a healthy sandwich for his dad, then puts it in his lunchbox; quickly writes ‘Enjoy! ;)’ on a post-it note and throws it in there as well before he hands it over. Dad lifts an eyebrow impressively high, but he knows he has nothing on Stiles’ eyebrow powers. He admits his loss, gives Stiles a hug and leaves for the day.

As soon as Stiles has got his own breakfast and lunch prepared, he heads out towards the bookstore.

---

Derek Hale hates his fucking soulmark. Don’t get him wrong, he likes the concept of soulmates, and knowing there’s someone out there for him who he could spend his whole life with, but did it need to be this? Could he not have gotten anything more romantic? A soulmate whose first words were something along the lines of ‘Shitdamn, I think I’m in love with you’, not his own fucking name .

The swirly ‘Derek’ on his arm has been the bane of his existence for over ten years. It’s also his family’s favourite thing to bring up whenever they can. His sisters will walk into a room calling his name, then follow it up with ‘Oh no, it’s just me!’ and break into laughter. His mom will tell them off after she schools her face into a more serious expression, but Derek knows the truth. He always makes sure to throw her a suspicious glare.

The reason it’s such a big joke in the Hale house is because it has gone wrong so often for him in the past. It all started when Derek was featured in the Beacon Hills Gazette after their High School Basketball team had won big. There was a picture of the team in their uniforms, and Derek’s soulmark was perfectly visible on his forearm.

Everybody in Beacon Hills knows what his soulmark says, and Kate Argent was the first person to take advantage of that fact. Lucky for Derek, Kate wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box and had forgotten Derek had met her once before. After the third time she emphasised his name and showed off her cleavage, Derek had run home and told his mom about her. Kate left town the next day.

The second was Jennifer Blake. In her case, Derek wasn’t even sure about the first words she spoke to him, since she approached him as if they had met before. (In retrospect, Derek should have known something was up.) They dated for a few months until Derek found out her real name was Julia Baccari, and when he confronted her about it, she slapped him and ran out the door. However, since Derek, as a Deputy, had found out about her real name because there was a warrant out for her arrest, she was quickly intercepted.

It only left Derek a tiny bit heartbroken - mostly because his love life felt doomed - and so his family decided to distract him with humor. If he awarded the concept of soulmates with less importance, if he could try to ignore it and just let it happen to him, he would be much better off.

Today is Derek’s day off, and since the holidays are coming up, he’s on the look-out for gifts. After picking up a mountain of socks for Laura (per her request), he decides to check out the new bookstore in town. Well, it’s not so much new as Derek has been too lazy to check it out and now it’s six months later. Oh well.

The store is very clearly split up into different genres, and Derek decides to check out the art corner, since Cora has been getting into painting lately. The family group chat and its several sub-units during any type of gift-giving season have informed him that Laura would be buying art supplies, Mom and Dad are giving her a trip to New York to visit the Guggenheim (show-offs) and Cora is buying herself a tablet so Derek is left with art books.

He picks out three books and adds a tote bag that says ‘Wake Me Up Before You Gogh Gogh’. He walks over to the register to hand over his items, and he smiles at the young man. Derek’s never been one for small talk, and since the man doesn’t seem to be either, Derek decides to take advantage of the silence while he’s being rung up and takes his time to appreciate the other man’s features. He’s tall, but not lanky, and his skin is speckled with moles. When he turns around and faces him, Derek is struck by his piercing amber eyes that catch the light just right. He’s downright gorgeous . Derek looks down and blushes, ignores the twitch in his pants, and decides to focus on the man’s name card. ‘Mieczysław’, it says, and Derek feels zero shame as he notes it down on his phone.

Derek looks up as the man in question clears his throat, and he blushes again when Mieczysław points at the display on the register telling him how much he owes. He hands over the cash quickly, and as soon as Mieczysław hands him his bag, Derek makes a run for it.

---

‘Leather Jacket Man’, as Stiles has started calling him in his head, returns twice more that same week. Once to buy a book about knitting, which earned him a playful eyebrow quirk from Stiles, and a second time Stiles is pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to notice. L.J.M. had come in, looked at the register and ran out again, blushing like a maniac. Stiles thinks he’s adorable, but also, hot as balls , and he hopes he’ll come back soon to introduce himself.

As luck would have it, Stiles is restocking the shelves in the Young Adult section when he hears the little bell on the door ring. He turns to give the new customer a wave, and is granted the glorious sight of L.J.M. instead. Except he’s not wearing a leather jacket. He’s wearing a big chunky knitted sweater, and Stiles has a strong suspicion he made it himself.

“Mieczysław,” Chunky Knitted Sweater Man says, and Stiles’ mouth drops open. It was with an obvious accent, and the pronunciation was just slightly off, but that was his name. Someone actually tried to pronounce his name. Stiles has gotten so used to people laughing when they saw his name tag, or people saying they felt sorry for him, or the worst one ‘How could your parents do that to you?’, and no one has ever attempted to say it out loud. There are butterflies in his stomach and a grin breaking free on his face, even if he’s scolding himself at the same time because for God’s sake, it’s just a name .

C.K.S.M. is staring at him nervously, and Stiles realizes he hasn’t even reacted besides a maniacal smile.

“Was that right? Did I say it right? I googled it, and I had the little computer voice show me how to say it, but you never know with that stuff, and you’re laughing at me, oh God, I’m so sorry, I butchered it, didn’t I-”

Stiles interrupts him by showing him his hand, and quickly takes out his phone to type out a message. He presses the play button and listens as the app says, “ Call me Stiles, please .”

He watches C.K.S.M.’s face closely for his reaction, and he’s rewarded with a gorgeous grin as C.K.S.M. mutters “Stiles”. He types out another message.

“ Thank you for saying my name, though. No one ever tries. You were almost right. ”

C.K.S.M. sends him a smirk. “Then I’ll need to practise more.”

Stiles points at him with a tilted head as he blushes and C.K.S.M. startles. “Oh! Sorry! I’m Derek.”

Stiles reaches out and shakes his hand with a smile, and starts typing again.

“ Anything I can help you with? ”

“Oh, no, I’m just looking.”

When Derek’s eyes don’t move away from Stiles’ face, Stiles grins and bites his lip. He types out “ Well, enjoy ,” and turns back to restocking. He makes sure to lean down towards the bottom shelf, and is grateful he decided to wear tight jeans today. He can’t hold in a snicker when he hears the choked off “Fuck” behind him.

If Stiles is completely honest, Derek has the kind of face he’d love to sit on, and stubble that he knows would be super annoying yet oddly pleasing as the man wreaked havoc on his ass. Stiles is now painfully aware of how hard he is in the middle of his workplace and tries to will his erection into submission.

He rises and adjusts himself in his pants while Derek mutters “Oh my guhh- I gotta go.” He clears his throat. “See you later, Stiles.”

Stiles winks and laughs when Derek walks out with a slightly wider step than necessary.

---

Derek’s innocent crush on Stiles quickly turns into an obsession with him. A healthy one, of course. It just means that every day, after work (barring the night shifts), he stops at the bookstore and hangs out with him. Sometimes that means restocking, even though he does a terrible job of it, and sometimes he joins Stiles at the register. If it’s busy, he’ll read whatever’s closest to him, and if it’s not, he and Stiles can just talk.

The first day Derek had gotten up the nerve to talk to Stiles, and butchered his name, he went home, jerked off in his bathroom because he couldn’t not . After dinner he asked Laura and Cora if they knew anything about him. Laura got way too excited but didn’t actually have any information so Derek quickly tuned her out. Cora, however, had gone to school with him.

She said she had never heard him speak even once in high school, and most teachers - with the exception of Mr. Harris - had never even mentioned it. Stiles did his tests and his homework, and always paid attention during class. When there was an oral presentation, most teachers gave him a replacement assignment, so the other students couldn’t complain either. “There’s always the occasional jackass,” Cora said, “But Stiles’ friends made quick work of them.”

The mystery surrounding Stiles’ lack of voice was still in the back of his mind, but Derek discovered it didn’t matter much to him. Sure, conversations would happen a lot quicker if Stiles didn’t need to type what he wanted to say into his phone, but Derek now uses those moments to stare at Stiles unabashedly. Then, when the phone relays his message, Derek can track the emotions behind it on Stiles’ face. Basically, Derek is doing a whole lot of Stiles-watching. And later when he’s alone in his room, he can do a whole lot of Stiles-remembering as he fucks his own fist.

They both know they’re attracted to each other, that much is clear. Derek has spent enough time staring at Stiles’ ass to show his intentions, and Stiles never hesitates to trail his fingers over Derek’s stomach through his shirt as he needs to pass by. Derek has been wearing thinner and thinner shirts, even though it’s fucking December.

In the past few weeks, his shifts at the Station have been crazy, and the few times Derek had off, Stiles was busy in the store, especially during the holidays. They haven’t been able to find time for a date, let alone plan what they would do and where they’d do it. (Eventually in a bed, Derek hopes.) They haven’t even kissed yet. Don’t get him wrong, there have been plenty of opportunities, but Stiles refuses to get up to any shenanigans in the store. He has gotten into the habit of biting his lip a lot around Derek, which Derek has now discovered is his ultimate weakness.

Derek is helping Stiles out in the store, or at least he was, until Stiles pushed him into one of the armchairs after Derek had yawned for the umpteenth time. He had a late shift the night before and then didn’t sleep well, but he wasn’t gonna abandon Stiles in the store. They had developed a routine by now, and Derek didn’t want to be the first to stray from it.

He yawns again and stretches until he almost slides out of the comfy chair. There’s an odd sound coming from the register when Derek pulls his shirt back down but when he looks over, Stiles is just typing on his laptop. Must have been the radio or something. He decides to test his theory by standing up and stretching his arms up towards the ceiling. Derek watches as Stiles nearly chokes on his tea.

Five minutes later, when he’s reading some magazine, he notices that Stiles has disappeared. There’s a sign on the counter that says ‘Back in 10 minutes. Please don’t steal anything.’, and Derek is looking around for Stiles when his phone chimes. ‘That was a sign for you to follow me to the back, you idiot,’ the text reads, and Derek trips over his own feet before he runs into the backroom. The door slams behind him and before he knows it he’s pushed up against the wall.

Stiles grabs Derek’s head as he kisses him, nips at his lip and licks inside. He jumps up to wrap his legs around Derek’s waist, and Derek doesn’t hesitate to push him against the opposite wall for more leverage. The taste of Stiles’ lips is addictive, as are the tiny moans that leave Stiles’ mouth every so often. Stiles pulls at Derek’s hair until he moves back a little so he can catch his breath. They stare at each other with heavy breaths for a few seconds before Derek can’t hold himself back any longer and starts kissing Stiles’ neck, his jaw, right behind his ear, anything that can get more of those filthy sounds out of Stiles.

Eventually, Stiles pushes him back and leans his forehead against Derek’s. He nips at Derek’s bottom lip one final time before he unwraps his legs and stands by himself. Stiles clears his throat and walks towards the store. His hand is on the doorknob when he turns around and runs to kiss Derek firmly on the lips, once, twice, like he can’t seem to help himself. Derek kisses him back and then pushes him away with a last slap on his ass. Stiles’ laugh echoes through the hallway after he leaves and Derek is so, so fucked.

---

It’s a Saturday, and miraculously, Stiles doesn’t have to work today. He sent a text to Derek this morning to see when his shift ended, because they could finally spend some time together without anybody else around, for hours . Now they’re lying on the couch downstairs, letting a movie play in the background as they make out lazily.

Derek is sweet, kind, and Stiles is dangerously close to admitting to himself that he has feelings for the man. It’s not like Stiles is waiting for the one - he has hooked up with enough people in the past and never felt bad about it - but he still knows there is a soulmate out there for him. Tiny specks of black ink amidst all the scars tell him he does, even if that’s all he’ll ever know. So to be here with Derek now, and to be feeling like this, just leaves him confused.

“Hey,” Derek interrupts his thoughts. “You okay?”

Stiles nods quickly and pecks him on the cheek.

“So… I know you might not like this,” he starts. “But I wanna ask you some stuff. Is that okay? If you don’t wanna answer anything, that’s fine of course, but I’m just...curious, I guess.”

Stiles had been expecting this, of course. Derek has never once asked him to talk, or to explain why he didn’t talk, or if he ever would. And even though Stiles appreciates it so much, he also knew he’d have to explain eventually. Not everything, but some things. He owes him that.

He grabs his phone to open the app, and nods at Derek with a smile.

“I’m just gonna be blunt, so if anything bothers you, just say so and I’ll move on, okay?” At Stiles’ encouraging nod, he continues, “Can you talk?”

“ Yes. ”

“But you don’t want to?”

It’s surprisingly close to the truth, and Stiles is so glad Derek didn’t ask, ‘Then why don’t you?’

“ Sort of. ” He changes his mind and types again. “ Yes. ”

Derek doesn’t wait long to process his answers. “Do you think you ever will?”

“ Honestly, I don’t know. Doctors don’t know, science doesn’t know. If it happens, it happens, I guess? ” Stiles takes his time to type out his answer. “ I’m not doing this on purpose. This isn’t my choice. I’ve never felt the urge to speak, so I’ve never forced my voice to work or to convey anything because there was always another way for me to communicate. There’s some sort of block between my brain and my voice, as if they got a divorce when I was ten and stopped talking to each other. I don’t know if that makes sense. None of this makes sense. That’s the point. But this is where we’re at. And I’ve found a solution for it. Maybe one day I’ll say something and you won’t get me to shut up. Who knows? ”

Derek snickers at the last part. “I’m sure you’re an annoying little shit with or without your voice.”

Stiles gives him the finger but laughs.

“I like the sound of your laughter.” Derek doesn’t look like that was supposed to come out of his mouth, not with the way he’s suddenly blushing and hiding his face in Stiles’ armpit.

“ Wow. You’re a fucking sap. ”

“Shut up,” his armpit mumbles.

---

Stiles doesn’t like to drive. The only reason he even got in the car today was because Dad had left his lunch on the counter and Stiles wanted to make sure he had it in time. Dad was very likely to just grab a burger instead of heading home for it, so Stiles drove. And then he stopped. Suddenly and violently. Because a car had driven into the side of his jeep in the middle of a crossroad.

This wasn’t even a busy crossroad. Stiles can’t remember driving on this road and seeing other cars. He stares out of his windshield at the empty road in front of him and doesn’t realize he hasn’t taken a breath in a while.

Suddenly his door is yanked open and a hand grabs him, pulling him outside and throwing him against his car.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, asshole?” A loud voice screams in his face. “Did you not see my bright fucking yellow car?”

Stiles breathes in and takes in his surroundings. A twenty-something guy in a tracksuit is standing in front of him, his hand on Stiles’ shirt.

“Did you fucking smash your head when you cut me off? Or are you just an idiot? Do you even fucking hear me?”

The man shakes him and Stiles takes the opportunity to sink to his knees on the gravel. It’s like he’s in slow-motion while the rest of the world speeds ahead.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

When Stiles looks up, the man grows angrier.

“So you can fucking hear me. Do you think I’m an idiot or something?”

Stiles isn’t crazy enough to nod, but the man seems to recognize it on his face anyway.

“Say something, you fucking turd!”

When Stiles remains quiet, the angry man suddenly looks triumphant. “Wait a minute, you’re the Stilinski freak, aren’t you? My dad’s told me all about you, you fucking piece of shit. Told me you’re just a weirdo.”

It isn’t the first time Stiles has heard these words, of course. High School is full of asshole teenagers, but this time, there’s no Lydia to snap back, no Danny to laugh it off, no Scott to threaten to kick them in the nuts. He’s alone, and in danger. He’s scared.

There are sounds in the background, but Stiles hears nothing but the angry shouts in his face about how he’s worthless , he’s pretending , he’s a freak .

The voice turns quieter, and suddenly there’s a different, more familiar face in front of him.

“Derek?”

The sound of his own voice surprises both him and Derek, and after a second that seems to last forever, Derek takes him in his arms and hugs him tightly.

“Yeah, Stiles, I’m here.” He sits back and looks at his arm, and Stiles doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand, until he does.

He reaches out and drags the fabric of Derek’s sweater up, and there it is. The only word Stiles has spoken since he was ten years old, written in black ink on Derek’s skin.

“How-” His voice croaks. How are you here , he wants to ask.

“Me and my partner have been following this asshole since he ran a light a couple streets away. We would have been here faster if he hadn’t watched one too many fast and furious movies and tried to ditch us.”

Only then does Stiles notice the uniform, and he could slap himself. How did he not know Derek was a Deputy?

“I-” he tries, but Derek shushes him.

“Are you okay? Did he touch you? I swear, I’ll kick his ass if he touched you, I don’t give a fuck about the uniform.”

Stiles panics until he has his phone in hand and can type.

“ I’m okay. Sort of. But I’m okay. I’m not hurt. Just in shock. ”

Derek nods. “Okay. Good. We’re still taking this asshole in, but I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods too. He breathes in, heavy and wet, and grabs Derek’s waist so he can hide his face and cry a little bit.

---

Derek takes Stiles home after he promises Haines he’ll take care of the paperwork later. He watches as Haines drives the Harris kid to the station, then gets in the car. Right now, Stiles needs to rest, and Derek needs to take care of him, comfort him, needs to not freak out about the fact that he found his soulmate , at least until said soulmate is awake to freak out with him .

A few hours later, when Stiles has taken a nap (which Derek accidentally joined him for), he sits up with a jolt. He reaches over to raise Derek’s sleeve, and Derek can’t stop the smile forming.

“Hey,” he says, and kisses Stiles’ unresponsive lips.

Stiles clears his throat. “Hi. Fuck.”

Derek is so shocked by the unexpected swear, he laughs out loud. “Jesus, I’m glad that wasn’t the first word you said to me.”

For the first time, Stiles cracks a smile. “I didn’t know, by the way. That you were mine.” He points at his own arm helpfully. “My...soulmate.”

Derek caresses the scars and kisses them before he pulls Stiles back down onto the bed.

“Stiles,” he says. “Do you want to talk, or do you want your phone?”

Stiles shrugs. “Dunno. It’s weird.”

“Okay.” Derek smiles. “Just tell me if it gets too weird, alright?”

He nods and chuckles.

“What?”

“I just remembered your first word to me. It’s kinda fucking poetic.”

“I guess the universe is a fucking sap too.”

“Yeah, it fucking is.”

“Stop swearing,” Derek says, but he’s laughing too.

“Fuck no,” Stiles grins. “My dad once installed parental control on my speech app so I wouldn’t swear, and I came up with so many new swear words he uninstalled it himself three days later.”

“Oh my God,” Derek chuckles. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“Well, it should. I‘m a fucking enigma. A mystery. No one knows what’s going in my head at any given time.”

“You want me to kiss you until you can’t breathe.”

Stiles pulls Derek on top of him and bites at his lip. “Lucky guess.”

Derek straddles Stiles and leans his elbows by his head before leaning down and slowly, torturously slowly nipping and licking and kissing inside until Stiles’ whiney moans are making him move his hips and grind into him.

He’s fully hard in his borrowed sweatpants, and Stiles’ thin pants don’t leave much to the imagination either. Soon they’re thrusting up against each other with whispered fuck ’s and there ’s.

When Derek pulls off Stiles’ shirt there’s a careless swipe of his thumbs against Stiles’ nipples, something he then does again when he hears Stiles moan. He chucks his own clothes along with Stiles’ pants over the edge of the bed and Stiles seems to choke.

“Fuck you.” He trails his fingertips over Derek’s abdomen. “No wait, fuck me. Wait. Yes. Fuck me. I’ll do you next time.”

“ Jesus ,” Derek grunts and when Stiles starts to grin, he rushes to intervene.

“Please, call me-”

“Don’t you dare.”

Stiles pulls him down and kisses him deeply before whispering. “Derek, don’t get me wrong, tomorrow I want your tongue in my ass for at least 30 minutes, but if you don’t get your fingers inside of me soon, I’ll have to take things into my own hands. And I’m a little tired of my own hands.”

“Get the lube.”

Derek slicks his fingers before reaching down and massaging Stiles’ rim. He’s stuck between wanting to take his time to watch Stiles fall apart or rushing ahead so he can sink his cock into him as fast as possible, but the sounds Stiles is producing make the decision for him. He pushes a finger inside, waits for Stiles to adapt, and starts moving it to loosen Stiles up. A few gentle thrusts later and Stiles is begging for another finger, another .

Somehow Stiles has managed to contort himself enough to grab a condom out of his drawer and throws it at Derek. “Some time today would be nice.”

He rolls on the condom, slicks himself up and nudges at Stiles’ entrance. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“You’re ridicul-oh shit!” Stiles says as Derek slips inside. He moans when Derek starts thrusting at a steady pace, and pulls his head down to kiss him stupid.

Derek takes his time to discover Stiles’ body and grins when he hears the startled groan, knowing he’s found the right spot. He starts aiming at Stiles’ prostate relentlessly until Stiles pushes him away with a whispered ‘ stop, stop, too much ’. He switches back to slow thrusts and wraps his palm around Stiles’ hard cock that’s lying between their stomachs. Stiles’ hands reach up over his shoulders and sink into his hair as he refuses to let go of Derek’s lips and Derek can’t help the fast and hard way he’s pushing inside now. He can feel it tingling in his legs, his ass, his balls, he’s close and from the way Stiles is shuddering under him, he’s close too.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” he’s whispering against Derek’s mouth. One final hard thrust inside and he’s coming, releasing a groan and jerking Stiles’ cock until he grunts and comes between their skin. Derek is slowly pushing inside still as he comes down from the rush and Stiles pushes his sweaty hair off of his forehead.

“Fuck,” he says, eloquently, and they both laugh before doing a terrible job of cleaning up before falling asleep.

---

The next morning, Stiles drags a sleepy Derek out of bed.

“Stiles, please. I forgot to tell you I’m allergic to sunlight. Deathly allergic. Please ,” he whines from under the blanket.

Stiles pulls the blanket off the bed and whispers in Derek’s ear. “There’s coffee downstairs.”

Derek’s head lifts off the pillow. “Alright. Guess I’ll die.”

They walk down the stairs and into the kitchen where Stiles’ dad is already cooking up what better be turkey bacon.

“Morning, Dad.”

Dad almost drops his mug with how fast he turns around, and a giant smile forms on his face. Derek stiffens behind him.

“Morning, son.” Stiles’ dad looks towards Derek. “Deputy.”

Derek makes a choking sound. “Sheriff,” he squeaks.

After Dad leaves for work and Stiles is done laughing his ass off, Derek grabs him by the shoulders. “You could’ve told me your dad was my boss .”

Okay, so it appears Stiles wasn’t done laughing. It’s a good thing Derek likes the sound of his laughter.

#aflailureandamasterpiece #stereksanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

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