Sterek Library (a03 Edition)

Twelvetide

By: LacrimaDraconis on a03

It had been three months and 27 days since Derek had come back to Beacon Hills – this time staying for good. He had finally made peace with his home town and came to accept a very important thing.  While he didn’t expect to live here happily ever after, he knew for sure now that happiness definitely wasn’t waiting for him elsewhere.

So Derek found a crappy job at a local bookstore which didn’t pay him nearly enough to endure all the soccer moms who felt entitled to his service, but the job was more about giving him something to do with his spare time than anything else. He shuddered at the thought of them staring creepily at him, and no matter what Stiles claimed, this wasn’t fate’s way of payback for Derek’s own former creeper tendencies. He might deserve a lot of things, but Derek absolutely did not deserve this. But other than that, he had settled into a more (like Stiles) or less (like Liam) close but overall easy friendship with most of Scott's pack and also his former betas. Things with Isaac were still a little awkward sometimes, both of them tip-toeing around each other and often being more polite than the situation deserved but there was progress and Derek was convinced it would only get better with time.

Now though Christmas time was rapidly approaching and even after eight years without the majority of his family, it still didn't come easily for Derek. It was the first time since he was back that he felt somewhat out of place, like an intruder, and felt he didn't truly belong. Sure, Stiles had asked him time and again to join the traditional Stilinski-McCall-Christmas-dinner, the conversation bringing a fond smile to Derek’s features as he tended to replay it in his head from time to time.

"Come on dude, at least for Christmas Day."

"Don't call me dude."

And though Derek knew the invitation was genuine and everyone would be glad to have him over, he wasn't really sure it was yet his place to be.  Ever since the fire Laura and him had mostly tried to avoid Christmas - quite a bold venture, considering they spend a few years in New York. Living in the city was practically like getting Christmas shoved in your face 24/7. Another reason, one he suspected nobody alive knew about, was that it was also his birthday and the days leading up to the holiday season made him even more aware of hiss losses and failings. He wanted to try, wanted to join his friends and start over and Derek couldn’t precisely grasp what was holding him back. Maybe all he needed was a little push in the right direction.

It began on December 14th, a rainy, slightly cold day with certain crispness to the air that was typical for the Beacon Hills area during this time of year. Derek's work day had been mediocre at best, and for about the third time that week he had come to the conclusion he seriously needed to consider taking the Sheriff up on his offer to become a deputy. The prospect of wearing a uniform daily wasn’t exactly appealing to him, but it was certainly better than keeping his current job. Yes, he loved reading and yes he loved books, but the circumstances weren’t worth it. Still musing about this Derek was just making his way into the loft, thoughts racing when a somewhat unexpected smell hit his nostrils, making his head snap up almost on instinct. Someone had been inside, the scent vaguely familiar but somehow masked, and while it wasn't unusual anymore for some of the pack to drop by and hang around his place, it only rarely happened when Derek wasn't home in the first place.

He made his way over to the kitchen counter, dropping his groceries when he spotted something from the corner of his eye. A tiny white box with a delicate snowflake printed on it was sitting innocently right next to his spice collection. (So he liked to cook, sue him.) Derek carefully opened the thing, a little wary of surprises, and huffed when he saw what it was. Inside the box a single rusty nail was placed on a fluffy cotton ball bed. Derek frowned, turning the nail over in his hands and picking the white tufts of fabric off it, but he couldn’t make anything of it. It had obviously been left for him though he couldn't figure out why or from whom it came. Decidedly ignoring it for now, he turned his attention back to his grocery bags, starting to pack away everything he wouldn’t need to prepare some sandwiches for dinner.