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"HARK THE HEEEEEEEERALD ANGELS SIIIIIIIIING GLORY TOOOOOOO THE NEWBOOOOORN KIIIIIIING..."
Derek buried his head under his pillow and tried to block out the noise—because it wasn't singing, it was fucking noise—wafting through his window. His closed window.
"PEACE ON EEEEEEEEEARTH AND MERCY MIIIIIILD GOD AND SIIIIIIIIINNERS RECONCIIIIIIILED..."
He'd known his frat boy neighbors were having a Christmas party tonight. He'd been prepared for that. He'd suffered though "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" playing on repeat for about forty minutes straight around 10 p.m., random bursts of raucous laughter, and the impromptu midnight caroling accompanied by an electric guitar.
Then finally, finally, everybody had started trickling away and by 1:30 the house had been mostly dark and blessedly silent. Derek had thought the worst was over and he could get some sleep.
"JINGLE BELL JINGLE BELL JINGLE BELL ROCK, JINGLE BELLS CHIME IN JINGLE BELL TIME..."
Apparently fucking not.
Derek threw off his covers and stomped to the window. He had no idea which frat boy was responsible for that God-awful warbling, but he intended to make them regret it.
He shoved open the window and winced at the volume of the off-key caroling without even a pane of glass between it and him. There was a lone silhouette in his neighbor's backyard, swaying from side to side on the porch with his hands clapped over his ears.
"HEY!" Derek shouted.
The figure in the backyard flailed and choked off mid-jingle. "Holy shit, dude! What the hell?"
Derek kind of wanted to strangle him. "It's two in the morning! You need to stop your drunken caroling outside my window."
"What...oh." The figure dropped his head. "Sorry about that. My, uh, my roommate and his girlfriend are having, you know, 'personal time,' and I was trying to keep myself from being scarred for life."
Derek resisted the urge to bash his head against the window sill. "So you decided to come outside and keep the entire neighborhood awake with you?"
"No, I was just trying to not hear anything." The figure kicked at the ground. "Although it now occurs to me that I might have misjudged how loud I was singing."
Well, that was an understatement if Derek had ever heard one. "Just a little."
"Sorry, dude." The guy sounded contrite. "I'll be quiet."
"Good." Derek realized how brusque that sounded, and added, "Thank you."
The guy on the porch gave a little wave, and Derek shut his window and turned up his electric blanket before he burrowed back under the covers, blissful silence finally reigning supreme.
Of course, that lasted all of ten seconds before his conscience stabbed him sharply. The guy was out on the porch, it was cold and dark outside, and who knew how long it would be before he could go back in.
He can go to his room and shut the door, like every other human being on the planet. He can play music loud INSIDE.
What if it's right next to his roommate's room? He's been sexiled from his own house! How is that fair?
Derek groaned, threw the covers back off, stalked back to the window, and slid it back open. "Hey."
The figure on the porch startled again. "Holy shit, do you not make any noise? Like ever?"
Derek ignored the comment and pointed downstairs. "You want to hang out over here until your roommate finishes?"
"Oh dude, really?" The hope in the guy's voice was almost heartbreaking. "You don't mind?"
Derek shrugged. "I'm already up." Thanks to your party. "Come on over. Front door."
"Oh my God, thank you so much!"
Derek shut the window and stumbled his way downstairs, slapping on a couple of lights and hissing at the brightness. He was going to need a bucket of coffee for work tomorrow. Or maybe an IV.
He unlocked the front door with the belated realization he had no idea which of his neighbors he'd invited over. There were three of them living in the house next door: Isaac, who was normally pretty quiet but could be a little shit when he wanted to; Scott, who was the most optimistic and sunny person Derek had ever met in his life; and Stiles, who was loud, obnoxious, sarcastic, too smart for his own good, and so far beyond infuriating it wasn't even funny.
He was also so unfairly attractive that it was almost physically painful. Summer with its daily beer-and-shirtless-sunbathing had been a particularly trying time for Derek.
So of course it was Stiles standing on the front porch in sweatpants and an ugly Christmas sweater, whiskey-brown eyes a little glassy and his hair mussed like he'd been asleep before he'd started his impromptu concert on the back porch.
Derek swallowed the sudden dryness in his mouth and stepped aside. "Come on in."
Stiles beamed and came into the house, wiping his shoes off on the mat. "Dude, I cannot thank you enough, seriously. Scott's room is, like, right next to mine and they are so, so loud tonight. I even tried crashing on the couch." He grimaced. "Somehow they were even loud in there."
Derek grunted and led the way into his kitchen, when he realized he didn't actually have any idea what he was going to do with Stiles now that he was here.
Well, he had a couple of ideas, but they were all bad ones.
"Do you want a drink or something?" Derek asked.
Stiles shook his head and balled his hands in his sweater. "Nah, I'm done with drinks for the night. I'm still a little buzzed."
"That wasn't..." Derek shook his head. "I meant do you want some water, or hot chocolate? I've also got tea."
"Oh!" Stiles's pale cheeks flushed a little. "Yeah, um, green tea, if you got it. Please."
Derek nodded and went to fill the tea kettle. "So if it's so loud over there, how is Isaac standing it?"
Silence from behind him, and when Derek turned, he saw Stiles blushing an even brighter red. "Um..."
"Never mind," Derek said quickly. "I can guess."
Stiles groaned and sank into one of the kitchen chairs. "Normally they're really considerate, you know? Like, Scott'll give me a heads-up so I can clear out and go hang out in the library or the theater or the coffee shop or something, and everybody's happy."
Derek put the kettle on the stove and snorted. "Sounds like they had too much alcohol and Christmas cheer."
Stiles laughed and rubbed his hand over his face. "Oh my God, you have no idea."
"And you don't..." Derek searched for a way to ask the question that wouldn't sound like he was hitting on Stiles. "You don't have another place you can go?"
"If that's your clumsy-ass way of asking if I'm single, yes, I am." Stiles batted his eyes and swept a hand over his lanky body. "Believe it or not, this milkshake does not bring all the boys to the yard. Or the girls. Which is a shame, since I'm equal opportunity on the gender spectrum."
Derek couldn't help but track the movement, following Stiles's hand as it skated over his chest and abs, and made himself turn around to get the tea down from the cabinet. It was bad if he was ogling Stiles in a stupid Christmas sweater.
"So what about you?" Stiles asked.
"What about me what?"
"Are you single? Or do you have some dashingly attractive significant other who's going to come through the kitchen door at any moment?"
Derek couldn't help the chuckle. "No, I don't." He put the tea bags into the mugs. "I don't...do well with people."
"Aw." Stiles rested his elbows on the table and grinned. "But you're doing okay with me."
The teapot went off then, saving Derek from having to answer. He poured the water and handed Stiles a mug.
"Thanks, dude." Stiles grabbed it, and his eyes actually lit up. "Oh my God, a Star Wars mug? Seriously?"
Derek shrugged, felt the heat crawling up the back of his neck. "So?"
"You don't get it. Nobody in my house has seen Star Wars. Nobody." Stiles shook his head vigorously. "I may have to marry you just for this."
Derek choked on thin air, and his neck felt like it was on fire.
"No!" Stiles turned a brighter red as well. "I mean, not that I wouldn't, but...it's just an expression, okay?"
"Not without a date first," Derek heard himself saying, and what.
Stiles's jaw dropped, and he gaped at Derek. "Wait, was that just in general, or do you actually want to go on a date with me?"
Oh God. Derek wasn't sure how the conversation had gotten here, but he was clinging to his tea mug with a death grip and praying he didn't pass out on the kitchen table. "Yes," he finally croaked out. "To both."
"Holy shit," Stiles said, still gaping. "I am so on board with that, you have no idea."
Oh. That was...that was good. Derek felt like he could breathe again. He smiled tentatively. "Okay."
Stiles winked. "So do you ask out all the boys who come over to your house for tea at 2:30 in the morning?"
"Considering you're the only person who's been over for tea at 2:30 a.m., yes."
Derek winced inwardly at how flat his voice sounded, but Stiles just threw back his head and cackled. Derek lost any train of thought he might have had, watching the line of Stiles's neck as he laughed.
They hadn't even had a date yet and he was already fucked.
"Oh man. I like you. This is gonna be fun." Stiles's grin was broken by a huge yawn. "Wow, I'm more wiped than I thought. I should probably head back over and see if I can get some sleep. Surely they're not going to spend a whole hour having sex at 2:30 in the morning, right?"
Derek yawned in return. "If they do, they have more stamina than me. And you can always stay on the couch. Here. If you need to."
He wanted to say "in my bed," but that seemed a little too forward.
Stiles smiled, small and sleepy, and it made Derek's heart somersault a few dozen times. "Aw, you're the sweetest." He stood and stretched, pulling his Christmas sweater up just enough that Derek could see the dark line of his happy trail. "If they're still porn moaning, I may take you upon that. But I should be fine."
Derek followed him to the front door. It was chilly outside, enough that Derek wished he'd thought to grab a robe or a sweatshirt himself, but not so much that he wanted to walk away from Stiles just yet.
"Thanks for letting me come over," Stiles said, swaying into Derek's space. "I really appreciate it."
"Anytime," Derek started to say, and then Stiles swayed closer and kissed him.
His lips were chapped and tasted a little like green tea, but that didn't matter because they were also soft and warm and sent a thrill through Derek's entire body, like an electric current from the top of his head to his heels.
He wanted to stay here kissing Stiles forever, but it was also going on three in the morning and his body was choosing now to remind him of that.
Stiles must have felt it too, because he pulled back with another yawn and a drowsy smile. "We're going to have to do that a lot more."
Derek managed to tear his eyes away from Stiles's mouth long enough to respond. "Yeah. Um. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas." Stiles backed away toward his house. "I'll talk to you tomorrow about that date, okay?"
"Okay."
Stiles bounded back across the front yard to his house, becoming a silhouette once again. Derek couldn't help but watch until Stiles disappeared inside.
***
The next morning, Derek found a basket of Christmas cookies on his front porch, with a scribbled note attached. On it was Stiles's name, a phone number, and Friday, 7p.m., the diner on 3rd and Main?
Derek couldn't text his "yes" fast enough.