Work Text:
Marisol took another sip of her coffee, hoping that maybe the heat would eventually reach her feet which despite two pairs of socks, were still freezing. She never did quite understand how her werewolf nature was to run hot, and yet she was always cold. Perhaps she had just gotten used to that California weather, and now that she was permanently stationed in Virginia, her body had yet to catch up to the climate change. She’d been standing outside a local bakery for the better part of twenty minutes, waiting for a familiar face to show up and wondering if she should have just canceled their plans instead.
Stiles had been insistent that they do at least one Christmas event this year, seeing as their studies were going to keep them occupied until they graduated, and after that, who knew how much time off they’d get to celebrate any holidays. So it only made sense that he was the one that was running late. Marisol cursed herself for not thinking ahead and just waiting for him so they could drive here together. Instead, she’d thought she’d get there early, get them both some coffee and pastries, something to surprise him with after he got out of class. Pulling out her phone, she went through her favorites before landing on his contact name and dialing.
“Hey!” Stiles’s out of breath voice answered from the other line, cutting her off before she could say anything. “I’m right behind you!”
Marisol turned to see a breathless Stiles standing a few feet away from her, bent over with his hands on his knees as he tried to regain his composure. Rolling her eyes, she hung up and walked over to him, holding out the now cold cup of coffee and chocolate croissant.
“You know, this was hot when I got it, but now I guess you’ll have to settle for lukewarm.” Marisol smirked at him as he took the cup from her, taking a long drink before nodding in approval, his eyes squinted and nose scrunched as if trying to convey what his taste buds were feeling. “I’ll take that as it’s still okay.”
“Yeah.” Stiles smiled at her before taking a giant bite out of his croissant. “Okay, you ready? You’re going to love this.”
“You say that as if we haven’t already been through Christmas in the Park in San Jose--multiple times. How different can this be really?” Marisol followed behind him, shaking her head at his excitement.
“Probably not that different, but you love Christmas, so you are going to love this.” Stiles held his arms out in display, gesturing toward the park before them that was filled with various different Christmas themed sets, covered in the fake snow that blew out every five minutes (despite the fact that they had just gotten snow the night before, which was still piled up on every street). He looked back to Marisol and held out his arm, nodding for her to take it so that they could get started on their stroll.
“Can’t argue with that logic, I suppose.” Marisol looped her arm in his, smiling as she took in their surroundings.
“No you cannot.” Stiles smiled to himself, pleased that he’d managed to find something he knew she’d enjoy and hoping this showed her how much he paid attention. “Besides, if I recall correctly, you were the one that dragged us out to Christmas in the Park--multiple times.”
“Yeah well...I really like Christmas.”
--------------------------------
The two strolled around, stopping every now and then at a particularly beautiful set, taking pictures of the old and outdated snowman figures in much need of replacement. They talked about class, about what their future held as part of the FBI, about how life was going to change for them now that Aurora and Chris had decided to move to Virginia as well.
“On that note--I actually think it will be nice having them around.” Marisol had finished her coffee long ago, but still held onto the cup, pretending that there was still some heat left to siphon off of it. “It’ll be nice to have a bit of home nearby.”
“I thought I was a bit of home!” Stiles frowned playfully at her. He’d noticed that at some point she had untangled her arm from his and hadn’t looped it back in after that, making his arm feel empty and limp at his side.
“Ahaha, well, it will be nice to have more of home. How’s that?”
“Better.”
“So, what did you think of Professor Graham’s lecture from yesterday?” Marisol was quick to change the topic, always feeling unsure whether Stiles was actually flirting with her, or if this was just more of him being his typical extroverted self.
“Topic change noted…” Stiles stared out at the path in front of them, covered in both the fake and real snow, his eyes glazing over slightly. “Honestly, I space out the most during Graham’s lecture. You think I’d be used to it by now, but I really can’t handle all that gore.”
“I definitely don’t think you’re used to it.” Marisol chuckled lightly when Stiles shot her a confused look. “You almost passed out when I got a paper cut last week.”
“Uhhh you were bleeding like, an obscene amount for a papercut, it was perfectly natural for me to feel faint.” Stiles defended himself.
“Uh-huh.” Marisol smirked. “Anyway, I think that might be my favorite lecture. I know it must be awful, but God I wish I could see and sense things the way he does.”
“I have a feeling it must be traumatizing, but you already have a heightened sense of...well, everything.”
“Maybe, but I can’t think the way he does.”
“You think...he’s a werewolf?” Stiles squinted, trying to piece together evidence that supported his theory, even though there wasn’t any there.
“No...He doesn’t smell like one...like anything really, except sweat and cologne.”
“Ohhh you’ve smelled his sweat. I see, I see.” Stiles teased.
“Not like that!” Marisol blushed, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “After the first few lectures, I thought he was a supernatural too...so I tried to casually smell him.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Well regardless of the gore, and what he smells like,” Stiles paused, giving Marisol a pointed look. “I think I would have liked to work with him if he’d ever been on the field.”
“Yeah, that would have been...an experience.” The two of them stopped to look at the set before them. It was of Santa’s workshop, with animatronic elves that moved back and forth with tools in one hand and a gift in the other. In any other context they would have been deemed creepy, but out here, surrounded by the snow and the cold winter air, the whole scene felt magical. Stiles watched Marisol as she started at the set, a mesmerized yet sorrowful look in her eye. She was remembering her parents, and suddenly Stiles realized what her comment about Professor Graham had meant--if she’d known then what she knew now, maybe they might still be alive.
“Come on.” Stiles gestured toward another path. “Lemme show you my favorite one.”
“You have a favorite?” Marisol asked, confused. “I thought this was your first time coming here?”
“Oh pfff no!” Stiles scoffed. “I came here three days ago to check it out. I had to make sure this was something you were actually going to enjoy.”
Marisol stopped in her tracks, watching the back of his head as Stiles continued to walk in front of her. Every now and then, he still managed to surprise her.
-----------------------------
After spending more than an appropriate amount of time taking photos of Stiles’s favorite set (one that consisted of a bunch of animatronic penguins sliding up and down a snow hill, while another penguin was half stuck in the “snow”, it’s butt sticking out and feet wiggling back and forth), the two set about trying to find some food. Finding a long line near one of the food trucks parked along the sides of the park, they got in line and waited, talking about tests and training that had yet to come. It made the time pass, and it wasn’t long before they were only a few people away from their meal.
“You’d think they’d have more than one line for food, considering how many people actually come to this thing.” Stiles shook his head, unhappy with the flaw in his plans. If he’d known they had to wait this long for food, he would have found a nice restaurant the two of them could have eaten at.
“Maybe the other trucks just aren’t as good.” Marisol suggested, trying to look around the people in front of them, and noticing that the food truck they were supposed to be in line for had suddenly moved down the street.
“This isn’t the line for food…” A voice behind them spoke up, causing them both to turn around.
“What?” Stiles asked, now uneasy about what they were in line for.
“Yeah, this is the line for a photo-op under the--”
“Mistletoe.” Marisol interrupted, as Stiles turned around to catch her staring up at the branch now hanging over their heads.
The two of them were ushered forward by a photographer, who told them to position themselves while he ran off to get another roll of film from his van. Unsure of how exactly they were supposed to pose for their photo, Marisol and Stiles stood there awkwardly, waiting for the photographer to return.
“Do you know where the tradition of kissing under mistletoe comes from?” Stiles was looking up at the branch, a thoughtful look on his face.
“Uh, yes I do, but I have a feeling you are going to tell me anyway.” Marisol let her eyes roam over Stiles’s face, taking in his features as he continued to look up at the hanging mistletoe.
“It’s from Norse Mythology. The Goddess Frigga, she uh, was worried about her son Balder dying, since that would mean the end of life as we know it, so she pleaded to all the elements, all the plants and animals that they may never harm her son.” Stiles paused, looking down quickly to see if Marisol was still paying attention, only to find her looking up at him very intently. He stuttered and turned his gaze back to the mistletoe branch, hoping that Marisol wouldn’t notice the blush that was creeping up to his cheeks. “She forgot one though--a plant. Mistletoe. And then, uh, Loki, the God of mischief, used it to kill Balder...Frigga was so heartbroken, she called upon everyone to try to bring him back, but in the end, it was mistletoe itself that healed him. So she declared that anyone who passed under mistletoe should never be harmed and instead be granted a kiss as a symbol of love...and well, yeah. That’s why we kiss under mistletoe.”
Marisol watched him as he spoke, taking in all his features--the way his eyes squinted when he tried to remember something, the way the right corner of his lips turned up when he came to his conclusion. He was telling her something she already knew, and yet it was charming in a way that wouldn’t have been if it were any other man. Maybe it was the fact that she could hear his heart racing, could smell the anxiety coming off of him, and knew he was only rambling because he was nervous. Either way, Marisol found it and him endearing and couldn’t help the smile that spread itself on her lips.
“Anyway...yeah. Kissing under mistletoe.” Stiles finally looked back down at Marisol, and his thoughts went blank. She stood there watching him adoringly and he knew that maybe he didn’t deserve it, but he wanted her to look at him like that for the rest of his life. He should tell her--what he was thinking, how he felt, what he wanted. His brain however, had a different idea and instead of proclaiming his feelings for her, he continued to ramble. “But...you know, my own personal experience with mistletoe has involved a lot less kissing and more...projectile vomiting...and near death experiences.”
“Hmm well,” Marisol finally spoke up. “Thank you, for that very informative history that i was already well aware of...and for the visual of projectile vomit.”
Stiles smiled at her, wondering how she hadn’t shut him up early, all their other friends would have cut him off immediately--except for maybe Kira. The noise surrounding them seemed to drown out, and Stiles couldn’t even remember where their photographer was supposed to be--all he could see was the woman in front of him, beaming and beautiful.
“You know...we never did talk about our moment.” Stiles interrupted the sudden silence.
“Our moment?” Marisol looked at him confused.
“Yeah. Our moment. You remember...that one time, in the closet, at that party from, I don’t know three years ago?"
“Was that...really a moment though?”
“I mean, I thought it was a moment. Did you not think it was a moment? Because I definitely thought it was a moment.”
“I think it was an almost moment.” Marisol corrected.
“An...almost moment?”
“Mmm yeah. You know like...it was almost a moment but never quite got there.”
“Ohhhh uh huh, uh huh, I see.” Stiles nodded his head. “You mean how like, we were in the closet, our faces just barely an inch apart, juuuuust about to kiss, when suddenly you had a life altering epiphany?”
“Mmm, exactly like that.” Marisol nodded her head up and down repeatedly and for effect.
“Right. And then how we never talked about it after that and then you ended up dating my ex girlfriend?”
“Huh, yeah, well someone was too busy pining after someone else.” Marisol accused him playfully. “Plus, you can’t blame me for falling head over heels for Malia--the girl is an absolute dreamboat.”
Stiles chuckled softly, knowing all too well how charming and easy to love Malia could be “Yeah, well, she really is something else isn’t she?”
The two stood there staring at each other, awkwardly. It wasn’t as if Marisol had chosen one over the other, and it wasn’t as if Marisol was doing the same thing now. Life had just been different back then, and even if she admitted to having feelings for Stiles during that time, her feelings for Malia heavily outweighed them. But here and now--was a different story.
“Are you two going to kiss at some point, or are the rest of us just going to have to wait for you to take this conversation elsewhere?” A voice from the line behind them broke the awkward silence between, causing them to look away from each other and suddenly acknowledge their surroundings. The photographer wasn’t back yet, so they weren’t really holding up the line, but neither had realized that those nearest to them could hear their entire conversation.
“Oh...uh, you know what?” Marisol took hold of Stiles’s arm and started to lead him away. “We changed our minds, the photo is all yours!”
A voice could be heard as they walked away, “Did he really bring up his ex while on a date? They were on a date right?”
Marisol and Stiles chuckled to each other as they made their way toward the park’s exit, passing many other Christmas scenes along the way and getting blasted by the fake snow at least twice. Once they reached Marisol’s car and Stiles agreed to being driven back to their apartment complex, the two took off, quickly slipping back into their more comfortable conversations and banter.
They pulled into their apartment complex and were in the middle of saying their goodbyes before each heading off in their own direction, when Stiles stopped and turned back.
“Hey!” He called out, causing Marisol to stop in her tracks and turn to look at him. “You know...maybe we can discuss that almost moment a little further...maybe over dinner next Saturday night?”
“Dinner next Saturday night?” Marisol let out a short laugh. “And risk having another almost moment?”
“Well, this time I’m hoping for a full moment, but I’ll take what I can get.” Stiles smirked at her and Marisol could feel the warmth of a blush spread across her cheeks. She hoped he wouldn’t be able to see it, and she thanked the stars he was human so he couldn’t feel, hear or smell what her body was doing. Hoping to hide it and potentially come off as coy, she simply smiled at him.
“It’s a date.”