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The previous Christmas Stiles spent brooding and pouting over being pregnant. He still lived with his dad, but John was still struggling with the news and working too much because talking to his son was painful. To honor his mother as they always did, they put up the tree and got each other presents, but food wasn't sitting well with Stiles so they didn't go to the McCalls' to bake cookies or eat Christmas dinner.
He avoided Peter like the plague and never opened the gift he received from his unwanted mate.
When he moved in with Peter, he packed the stocking his mother had knit for him, and the small, wrapped package, then forgot about both.
Today, three weeks until Christmas, he realizes the huge house has no decorations, no scents of gingerbread, no gaily wrapped packages. While Lily naps, he searches for that still packed box, finally finding it in the basement storage room alongside several professionally packed and taped boxes with Peter's name on them. One of them says 'Christmas' as well.
Too curious for his own good, he finds a box cutter in a drawer of tools and slits open the tape, then kneels to open the box.
There are Christmas ornaments, not many, but some of them are obviously handmade by a child. He takes out a styrofoam ball covered with holiday stickers, and a felt candy cane with glued on glitter.
Beneath the first layer is a stocking with a snowman on it and a name embroidered across the top.
Grace.
Realizing who must have made the ornaments in his hand, he carefully replaces them, emotions clogging his throat and tears stinging his eyes.
Peter never talks about her. There's a picture of her at six or seven that sits atop his dresser alongside the one of his wedding to Marta, but Stiles has no idea if the little girl was a wolf or how old she was when she died.
From a terse conversation with Cora he knows that Marta was his mate and not just his wife. A werewolf can survive their mate's death, even take another--Peter's proof of that--but most don't do the latter and many die within a year or take their own life. When Stiles read that in one of Peter's old histories, he wondered if the fire in a way preserved Peter's life. Being trapped in his unmoving body for six years kept him from killing himself.
Carefully he places the ornaments back in the box and rises to find some tape to reseal it.
When he turns, he sees Peter standing in the doorway, a blank look on his face.
Caught snooping into something too private, Stiles flushes, stammers an apology, but Peter just shakes his head and walks to the box. Crouching, he pulls back the flaps and stares at the contents. Feeling awkward, Stiles stands behind him and waits for his reaction.
When it comes, it's calmer than he expected, though the monotone is worrisome.
"We moved into our own house when Marta became pregnant the second time. We'd only been there three months. Derek told me Laura went through the place in under an hour, pointing out personal things to be put into storage, then had the rest sold." Picking up an antique looking Santa ornament he watches it slowly spin from his finger. "Marta bought this the first year of our marriage. She bought one every year. There are nine," he murmurs, before carefully placing the ornament back in the box. Standing, he turns to face Stiles. "I haven't been able to look to see what they saved. Seven boxes of a life together."
"I'm so sorry, Peter." For snooping, for Peter's losses. He wants to hug him, but Peter's pulled into himself. "I came down here to find my stocking. I was going to talk to you about Christmas. But we don't have to..."
Frowning, Peter interrupts, "Don't have to what? Celebrate the holidays?" He seems to shake off whatever darkness has come over him. "Lydia's decorator is coming in two days to do the public spaces. I thought we could go cut down a tree for our suite this weekend. We'll need to buy lights and ornaments, other decorations, but we can use these as well."
"Are you sure?" He doesn't sound all that sure.
"They weren't meant to be stored away forever. My daughter made some of those for our family. I need...I need to remember those good times."
Stiles quickly jumps in, "Of course you do. It's good, all good. And in a couple years, Lily will make some to join her older sister's."
The smile that crosses Peter's face is sad, but it is a smile, and Stiles moves into him, wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling his neck. When his mate's arms go around him as well, he smiles in relief.
Finally they separate and each takes their box of Christmas items upstairs. As they head to their suite, Peter asks softly, "Did you see a stocking?"
"Yes. Grace's."
"Do you mind if we hang it as well as yours? And we'll need to get one for Lily. I'm sorry I've not been more on the ball about the holidays.. It was Marta's favorite time of year and it's..." His voice trails off into memory.
"Hard. Yeah, it was my mom's too. And of course we can hang Grace's stocking. Maybe we can buy some toys for it and give them to kids in the hospital or something."
"That's a good idea." Pushing open the door to their sitting room, Peter places his box down. Stiles sets his down as well and goes back into his mate's arms, needing to reassure then both.
"I didn't even know if you guys celebrated until I saw the box."
"Last year we didn't do anything special. All the Hale ornaments and decorations, the decades old snowglobes my grandmother collected, all the stockings that a great aunt made for my generation and the ones Talia spent a fortune on for her kids, everything burned. Knowing we lost so much and not just the possessions...it hurt."
"And I sure wasn't helping."
Peter snorts and brushes his lips over Stiles' cheek, then guides them to the couch in front of a low-burning fire, pulling Stiles down onto his lap. "I did get you a gift."
Stiles feels himself flush again. "Um, yeah, it's there in my box, still wrapped. I was really bratty last year."
"You can open it this year. And the many more I'll buy you, and I already have several items for Lily, but we need to do much more shopping. She'll need outfits as well. I'm thinking green velvet over red."
Their daughter is already the best dressed infant in Beacon Hills, but Stiles just nods. At least Peter doesn't try to dress him...much. "Can we take her to see Santa at the mall?"
"Of course. It's her first Christmas, even though she won't remember any of it."
"We will."
"Yes, we will."
They kiss tenderly and then Stiles rests his head on Peter's shoulder, warm and happy and looking forward to Christmas more than he has in years.
But there is one question he needs an answer to. "So, what do you want for Christmas?"
"I have everything I want."
"That's sweet, but I can't wrap that."
Peter laughs.
"And don't say world peace. That's what my dad asks for every year and thus he ends up with cheesy 'best dad' mugs and t-shirts."
"Which I'm sure he loves, and I don't want world peace. World domination, on the other hand..."
He's teasing, which makes Stiles snort this time and smack his hand down on his chest. "I'm serious."
From down the hall and over the monitor comes an annoyed wail, and they both sigh and struggle off the couch and their comfy positions.
"How about a daughter who naps longer than an hour."
"Can't wrap that either," Stiles says, "But we can ask Santa."
"You aren't sitting on any man's lap but mine."
At the possessive tone of voice, Stiles shivers, but it's a good shiver and he grins as Peter heads towards the nursery. Once he hears him talking to Lily and quieting her down, he goes to his desk and starts to make a list of everything they need to buy and do in the next three weeks to make this, their first real Christmas, wonderful.
End