#avsswinter

[giveemhales]

Moodboards for Sterek AUs: 20/?

For @averysterekwinter day 3 (Theme: snow/ice)

Snow Day

(Plus here’s a fluffy ficlet, the rest under the cut because it got a bit long)

The first thing Stiles noticed when he woke up was that outside was white.

It was snowing, and not the drizzle of snowflakes that would melt upon hitting ground that was more usual for the area. No, there was a thick layer of white over everything in sight.

The second thing he noticed was the thing that woke him up: a text on his phone. He didn’t want to call it hypervigilance, because that implied a whole host of other issues he didn’t want to address, but even just the vibration of his phone from a single text was enough to rouse him.

It was an inconvenient habit (it was winter break and he wanted to sleep in, dammit), but he was grateful he had been roused when he read the text.

The text was from Derek and simply said Come to pack house ASAP.

Rest of fic under the cut!

He considered calling or texting to ask what was wrong, but he had gotten enough texts like that to know he wouldn’t get a response. If he wanted any answers, he would have to go to the pack house.

Stiles and Derek had been dating for around a year now, but they rarely texted. Well, Derek rarely texted. Stiles texted and Derek sometimes reluctantly replied. He wasn’t a big fan of technology. Kind of annoying considering Stiles was usually away at his campus, but Derek’s almost weekly visits more than made up for it.

So seeing this text immediately concerned Stiles. Pair that with the unusual snow, and he assumed the worst.

His mind whirred with different possibilities. Did a witch cast a spell? Was Jack Frost making a visit? Was some new dark Druid coming to fuck with nature?

He knew he was being a bit irrational, but he had learned to assume the worst when it came to Beacon Hills, and he could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen actual snow at home in his lifetime. His past experiences didn’t allow him the luxury of excitement about novelties.

Overall, the combination of the unusual weather and the text from Derek calling for an emergency meeting had Stiles on edge and falling out of his bed in his haste to head out.

He didn’t have a good snow jacket so he just put on as many layers as was comfortable and a coat. He grabbed some gloves, and mourned for his converse which would surely not do well in the snow.

Stiles rushed out to his car, noting his dad had already left for the station. He was grateful to note the roads had already been cleared, as he wasn’t sure if his jeep could handle snow and ice.

He parked when he reached the edge of the preserve. They had cleared a dirt road so that they would be able to drive to the pack house, but it wasn’t an official street so the city had no reason to clear it of snow. 

Stiles understood why it wasn’t cleared of snow, but he was still annoyed. Fortunately, the snow wasn’t slushy, so at least his feet weren’t soaked. Still, his converse and jeans did little to protect him from the cold, and he walked as quickly as he could, while also watching out for any possible ice patches. 

By the time the pack house was in sight, Stiles was shivering, and ready to yell at Derek for making him come all this way when phones were a thing. 

Derek was standing in front of the pack house, and Stiles had no qualms about yelling and walking at the same time.

“Hey, jerk, there better be a good reason you called me out here, like dead bodies good reason. I am just a human without all the werewolf heat mojo, and I’m on break, so there are not a whole lot of reasons I should be anywhere except in bed sleeping right now.”

Stiles couldn’t really make out Derek’s face, but he knew it wasn’t as remorseful as it should have been.

Stiles sighed loudly and continued marching toward the house, looking down again to make sure he didn’t step in anything which would make him even more uncomfortable.

It was as soon as he looked down that he felt it, the cold becoming even colder, ice running through his veins.

He was under attack!

He looked up with a gasp, eyes searching for the assailant, for what cruel monster had thrown a snowball right at him. 

He was surprised to see that all of the pack had appeared in front of the house (damn werewolf speed), all wearing smirks of varying deviousness. 

Derek had his arm still raised, and Stiles knew he was the perpetrator (he wasn’t even wearing gloves but already had another snowball in his other hand, he clearly had an unfair advantage). 

In fact, everyone had a snowball prepared, and they were all staring right at Stiles with an evil gleam.

“Whoa! Who decided everyone would team up against me? This seems totally unfair.”

“It’s not everyone against you,” Scott said.

“It’s every man for himself,” Isaac finished for him, and threw a snowball right at Derek’s face.

And then it was chaos.

Stiles made as many snowballs as he could while the werewolves were distracted amongst themselves, thanking god he had thought to put on gloves. 

When Stiles was pretty sure he had a good amount of ammo stockpiled, he called to Scott. “Scotty, it’s snow time!”

Ever since they were young, when they had any sort of battle, whether it be nerf guns or water balloons, “It’s show time,” was their codeword to create an alliance. They would join forces and blindside their opposite.

(Stiles may or may not have been waiting his whole life to get to use that snow time pun).

Stiles began constructing a kick ass fortress as Scott ran over and began throwing Stiles’ snowballs at a pace only werewolves were capable of. 

When he popped up to check how Scott was doing, he was blindsided by three rapid succession snowballs right to the face. 

All from his boyfriend.

“Rude! And totally unwarranted!” Stiles shouted.

Derek glared at him. “It was revenge for that awful pun.”

Stiles gaped. “Oh you have snow idea what you’ve just started.”

He ducked before Derek had even thrown the next snowball.

The battle lasted close to another hour (Stiles cursed werewolf endurance), hundreds of snowballs and a handful of puns thrown.

It was at the time that his gloves were soaked through and he thought his fingers might fall off if he made one more snowball that he decided to call it quits.

He turned to look at Scott who was hiding with him behind the fortress and gave one nod. They stood up in unison, shouting their surrender with their hands up.

They were immediately pelted with a flurry of balls.

Stiles’ arms fell to his side. “Really? When we were surrendering? Do you snow snow bounds?”

The rest of the pack stared at him with blank stares.

“Fine, whatever, clearly nobody appreciates me nor understands my genius. Sorry my puns are too advanced for you all.” Stiles shook his head in disappointment and began to head to the house.

And promptly fell on his ass.

The rest of the pack burst into laughter (including Scott, the traitor, who was quick to abandon him), and Stiles glared at the sky from where he lay, cursing the world for this injustice.

Derek walked over, a smirk clear on his face while he looked down at Stiles. “You good?”

Stiles grumbled. “Yes. I meant to do that.”

Derek looked even more amused. “Oh really? And why is that?” Derek asked even as he offered a hand to help Stiles up.

“So I could do this!” Stiles shouted as he pulled down Derek with all his might with the offered hand. He knew Derek must not have been expecting it, because he actually managed to pull him down with an exclamation.

His victory was short lived, as he realized the consequences of his actions. He groaned. “God, you’re so heavy.”

“And you’re so dumb.” Derek got up on his elbows so he was slightly above Stiles. 

Stiles stared dreamily up at his boyfriend, deciding to ignore the insult. “Hey, did it hurt?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “You mean when you pulled me down? Not really, I had a squishy human to cushion my fall.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “No, when you fell from heaven,” Stiles smiled widely, “Because you’re a snow angel.” He rolled them so he was above Derek.

Derek sighed heavily but remained limp as Stiles grabbed his arms, sliding them up and down through the snow in the classic snow angel motion.

Stiles rolled away from Derek when he got as close to an angel as he could and made his own, laughing the whole time. 

Derek sat up from where he had been manhandled. “Why do I put up with you?”

“It’s because you glove me!” Stiles shouted, removing one of his gloves (which at this point had become so soaked from snow that it was just making him more cold) and tossing it at Derek.

“Don’t take off your gloves, you dumbass!” Derek said, looking scandalized. Stiles couldn’t really blame him for his concern. Stiles was a human, and therefore susceptible to pesky things like hypothermia, but Derek should have thought of that before he started a snowball battle. 

Derek stood up and lifted Stiles up, hauling him over his shoulder.

Stiles didn’t really mind, since it got him out of the snow and gave him a great view of Derek’s ass.

“Just admit you’re s-mitten!” He took off his other glove and slapped Derek’s ass with it.

~~~

An hour later, Stiles was wearing multiple layers of Derek’s (dry) clothes, wrapped in a blanket, cuddling against his furnace boyfriend, surrounded by the pack.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but even if some people were needlessly cruel to me today, I had an ice time.”

The pack groaned, except Scott, who added, “Icy what you did there!”

Stiles leaned over to high five Scott.

“I will kick out the next person to make a pun,” Derek interjected.

Stiles rolled his eyes, even as he cuddled back into Derek’s side. “Ugh, whatever you say, Frosty.”

Derek glared down at Stiles, looking prepared to retaliate.

Stiles put his hands up in mock surrender. “That wasn’t a pun, that was a reference.”

“Well it wasn’t a very good one, since Frosty was a holly jolly soul.”

Stiles beamed. “Oh my god, my boyfriend knows his Christmas classics. I think I’m in love.”

“We know,” the rest of the pack responded in unison, but Stiles was too busy staring up at his boyfriend in adoration to care.

~~~ 

Later that night, when they laid together in bed, Stiles looked up at Derek, and his fondness shined bright. “I love you.”

Derek looked back at him, equally fond, and smirked and said, “I know.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted to hit him for ruining the moment, or kiss him senseless for quoting Star Wars. He did neither, because he couldn’t let this opportunity pass.

“You mean, you snow?”

The ensuing slap on the back of his head was well worth it.