Donna was having a bad day and requested Sterek shopping for Christmas trees. Who am I to disappoint, honestly?

Word Count: 2206

"How did this even happen?" Stiles laments, and then knocks his head onto the steering wheel. "Ow."

"You knew that would hurt," Derek sighs.

"Yeah, and I wonder who's responsible for that?" Stiles snarks. "Somehow, it's always you."

Derek still doesn't feel bad about knocking his head into the wheel, all those years ago. At one point, he might have been annoyed at the implication that he caused a bunch of problems for Stiles, because, honestly, Stiles causes most of his problems by himself. But Derek has grown since most of his pack was in high school. He's zen. He doesn't care if Stiles is still using him as a scapegoat. Not much, anyway. He shrugs and opens the door. "Are you coming, or are you just going to mope all night?"

"Yeah, whatever," he mutters in response, and follows him into Walmart.

There are a lot of people there, which Derek had expected. But Stiles is still looking mutinous, so he coaxes him into the store with a tidbit of information. "Mom used to take us Black Friday shopping," he says casually.

Stiles gives him this sympathetic puppy dog look and clasps his shoulder. "My mom hated it." He follows him to the Christmas section without complaint.

Stiles is painfully easy to manipulate, honestly. Just say something about your dead mother in the past tense, and all of the sudden he becomes agreeable and almost demure.

One day, probably soon, he'll figure out what Derek is doing. That day, however, is not today.

"So why isn't Cora here?" Stiles asks, grabbing the back of Derek's shirt so as to hold onto him in the crowd. "Shouldn't she be living out old memories with you?"

"She's visiting Boyd and Erica," he replies. He reaches back and removes Stiles' hand from his shirt, but holds onto it with his own. He likes this shirt, and as much as he doesn't want to lose Stiles in the crowd, he also doesn't want to stretch the shirt out to the point that it's ruined.

Also, they're holding hands now, which is kind of awesome.

Jeez. When did he start sounding like Scott in his head?

"Oh, are they out now?"

"Out?" he repeats blankly.

"Yeah, their weird polyamorous relationship or whatever. Erica was insistent that it was a secret."

"It's not weird," he says, immediately defensive. "Polyamory is becoming more common."

"Why do you even know that?"

"Boyd," he says, shrugging. Plus, it had seemed important to know about what his sister was getting into with Erica and Boyd. He's read a lot.

"Oh," Stiles says.

They finally reach the Christmas section of the store and Stiles drops his hands to pick up a string of Christmas lights. "So who is the relationship a secret from, then?"

"Boyd's parents, mostly," Derek says with a shrug. "But also Scott."

"Why Scott?"

He grimaces. "Can't you guess?"

"Oh, you mean when he gets all misty-eyed and congratulatory?"

"Right. Two things Cora hates." Derek looks over at the gathering crowd around a nine foot Snowy Dunhill Full Pre-lit Christmas Tree. That's the one, if he can get through the crowd.

"Dude, not to be racist, but you look hungry like the wolf," Stiles says.

He doesn't bother to look over at him. "That wasn't even funny."

"Yeah," he easily agrees. "That's because you dragged me away from my post-turkey nap to go Black Friday shopping with you. I'm understandably off my game.

"I wasn't aware you really had any," Derek says and then grabs his arm. "Come on. I want this tree."

"I didn't realize you were so into Christmas trees."

"Everyone likes Christmas, Stiles."

"Yeah, but Scott and I have a three foot tree that cost 15 bucks. You're about to put down 500 dollars on a fake tree."

Derek starts pushing through the crowd. "Well right now, it's only 479. Usually it's over 600. And I don't live in a dorm."

"Why don't you just get a real tree? It's not like you're concerned about leaving a carbon footprint, given that you drive a Camaro and all."

"Because this one looks just like the one we had growing up. Mom always set it up the day after Thanksgiving. Laura got to put on the first ornament…" Two truths and a lie. It looks nothing like the tree he had growing up, but Stiles probably won't notice.

"Oh. Well…yeah, okay," Stiles says.

Painfully easy.

The two of them push their way through the crowd together, and Derek grabs the first box he can reach.

"Wrong one," Stiles says—and he's right. Derek's holding the 7.5 foot tree, which, while nice, is not what he's here for.

Stiles wiggles through the crowd and slaps a hand on the proper box. Another man tries to grab it, and Stiles yells, "Dibs!"

Derek snorts and pushes through the crowd after him. There's one woman who just won't move out of his way, though, and it takes a lot of maneuvering to get around her and into Stiles' space. "Thanks," he says, and picks the box up.

One of the associates stares as the two of them carry the box through the crowd. Derek is taking most of the weight, Stiles holding the other end up mostly for show, but it probably makes both of them look a little more strong than average.

"You've been working out," Derek says. And that's not even for show, because he can tell Stiles is taking more weight than he would have been able to before leaving for college.

"Dad made me promise," he replies. "If I bulk up, he'll slim down, or something."

It's futile to argue with him about his father's health, so Derek doesn't bother. "Do you need anything, while we're here?"

"No," Stiles says. "But I do get to help put up the tree, right?"

"Sure," he says.

"If you invite Lydia over before Christmas, she's going to rearrange all of your ornaments," Stiles points out.

He shrugs and shifts the box until it's resting more comfortably on his shoulder. It's a sacrifice he's willing to make, if it means Lydia has somehow managed to come back for the holidays. It seems unlikely, but stranger things have happened. Recently.

"So why didn't you ask Scott to come with you? Isn't this prime brother bonding time?"

Derek sighs. He's never going to stop getting flak for that. "He gets annoyed if we hang out too long. I get annoyed pretty much instantly. So…no."

"Right," Stiles drawls.

He wishes he could see his face right now. Does he look unimpressed? Sympathetic? Annoyed? Defensive? It's always hard to know with Stiles.

Sometimes, he wishes he didn't care about Stiles and his opinions. But usually he's just glad to have him around.

Ugh. It's a good thing Cora isn't here. She always knows when he's having "squishy thoughts," as she calls them.

"Here, this one," he says, and directs Stiles down a check-out aisle.

"Can we set it down?" Stiles asks, eying the line.

"You're barely holding it."

"Yeah, I'm a weak little baby. Whatever. Can we set it down?"

"Sure, fine," he says, and carefully they set it on the ground. Derek pushes it forward as the lines moves. "How has your semester been?" he asks, because he's not sure what else you ask a college student.

"Good. And before you ask, no, I haven't picked out a major yet."

And there goes that question. "Roommate okay?"

"Who, Scott? Scott's fine. Of course. I think Dad and Melissa are a little disappointed we didn't try to meet new people, but it's not like I haven't made friends. None as hot as you, so don't worry about that."

"I wasn't."

"Oh," Stiles says, and looks away a little awkwardly. "I didn't mean—"

"I just mean that no one is as hot as me," Derek teases.

Stiles grins then. "Right. That's true."

"Of course it is."

"So how did you survive without me and Scott?" he asks.

He nudges the tree forward again and thinks about it. "Cora has been pretty good about not letting me get bored. And I've been doing some home repair. The loft is pretty…set." There's an aloe plant sitting in his window, the long leaves draping over into the sink. Cora thinks it's useless, but Derek remembers the dark red Stiles and Allison turned that summer, and thinks that at least the next time, he'll be ready to help.

Stiles blinks at him. "It's weird that you're such an…adult now."

He does his best not to be offended. "Just waiting on the rest of you to catch up."

"Hey!" Stiles gasps. This time, he's definitely affronted.

It's kind of satisfying.

"On the bright side," Stiles says as he stretches to put the star at the top of the tree. "I finally grew into my shoulders."

Derek eyes the shoulders in question and lets his gaze fall downward to where Stiles' shirt has ridden up with the stretch. "Do you need me to lift you? I don't think even Isaac could reach the top of the tree."

He glances back at Derek and catches him looking. He blushes but shrugs. "If you want."

"Or I could get you a stool," he says slowly. Maybe picking him up is a bad idea.

"Do you have one?"

"No." He crosses the room and wraps an arm around Stiles' waist. "This okay?"

"Mmhmm," Stiles says a little breathlessly.

Derek can relate, but he lifts Stiles anyway, just a few inches so he can reach the top. He can feel Stiles moving around for a minute before he pats Derek's arm.

"Got it."

"Great," he says, and immediately sets him down. He doesn't back up before Stiles turns around, though, and for a second, they're way, way too close. "Um. Ornaments." He points at a box of them. They're from the apartment he shared with Laura in New York, slowly collected in the years after the fire. They hadn't had much, besides Christmas.

"Cool," Stiles says, but he doesn't move except to grab one of Derek's hand. "I think I need to confess something to you."

Derek can't breathe. "Um."

"I don't even know why it happened, okay? But there was a guy coming onto me really strongly and when he asked me out I kind of panicked and said I had a boyfriend."

"Is this—"

Stiles cuts him off, caught up in the middle of a rant. "He didn't believe me, so I showed him a picture on my phone and you were the only guy on there except Isaac and Scott and obviously the two of them wouldn't really works so I showed him your picture and now everyone—including Scott and my dad—thinks we're dating. And I'm really sorry?"

"Should I murder this guy?" Derek wonders. He's having a hard time processing everything, and it seems logical to start from the beginning.

"It might make me feel better, but then you won't be able to walk around shouting about how you were exonerated."

"I don't do that," he sighs. "Why wouldn't Isaac have worked?"

"Because…Isaac hates me usually."

Derek squints at him. "Not really. What picture of me do you even have? And how did Scott believe you?"

"A picture Cora sent me," he says. "And Scott believed me because…he's…gullible?"

"A lie," Derek says slowly. Really, there's only one reason Stiles would be this uncomfortable, which is a little bit crushing. "Is it because he knows I like you?"

"Yes, sorr—what?" Stiles blinks at him a couple times. "Just to make sure I heard you right—you said you like me."

Derek frowns. "I wouldn't take just anyone Black Friday shopping, you know."

"Oh my G—" Stiles can't even finish the phrase before he starts panicking. "I thought—you—me—"

Which makes everything a lot worse. "You don't have to worry about it, seriously," Derek hurries to say. "I'm not asking you for anything, and you can keep using me as an excuse if you want. I don't expect you to feel the same or anything. We can still be friends."

"No, no, stop," Stiles says, and tips forward until he can tuck Derek's head under his chin and hug him tight. "Scott knew I liked you. He didn't know you liked me. Because—you like me, right? You said that?"

Derek slowly hugs him back. "Yeah, I said that."

"That makes everything so much easier," Stiles says, and then kisses Derek quickly.

"I haven't hung up the mistletoe yet," Derek complains against his mouth, but he presses into Stiles until the backs of his arms, wrapped around Stiles hips, touch the tree. He walks backward, pulling Stiles with him.

Stiles has opened his mouth at some point—it's hard to know exactly when that happened, given the way Derek is kind of—floating.

Stiles pulls back first. "That was weird. And awesome. I'm texting Scott."

"You're going to text Scott about how you made out with someone he already thinks is your boyfriend," Derek deadpans disbelievingly.

Stiles stops texting and frowns. "Damn. You're right." He drops the phone onto the couch. "Guess we can just make out some more."

A/N: Fun fact: when I first started writing that I wrote like a page and a half in Stiles POV, but eventually decided I didn't like it and started over. However, I did make myself snicker a bit with the opening:

The text arrives at 7:03 p.m., precisely 15 minutes after Stiles had left the table to collapse on Scott's couch.

From: Just Derek
What are you doing tomorrow?

Derek had insisted that Stiles stop giving him stupid names in his phone book. To be fair, they'd ranged from "Creeper" to "Exonerated" to "The Prettiest Alpha", and it was really only a matter of time before he snapped. "Just Derek," he'd insisted.

So Stiles had acquiesced.