I'll Always Know It's From You (A Sterek Novella)

Chapter 8

Stiles's POV

I keep an eye on Derek as he moves to offer my Father some help with the dishes and cleaning up of the cookies, my body unable to move, a stone rock and chains tied around my ankle, 'S&M' on it, chaining me to the pillar of embarrassment written all over my face.

"Stiles? Everything alright? You look as red as Santa's hat!" My father uses humor as a sword to slice the chain from my ankle, freeing me and bringing my attention back to my concerned father and smirking boyfriend.

I nod, still unsure of my voice, knowing it'll give away something Derek just said, whose smirk is widening at my reaction to his words, his words. Words that rendered me speechless. I force my legs to work, taking a step at a time, making my brain move one foot in front of the other as I approach the two, the enchanting smell of sugar Christmas cookies still a scarf around my throat, now a suffocating feeling in the heavy atmosphere.

"I think I'm gonna head to bed, it's getting late anyway." My voice cracks despite my efforts to keep it from doing so, and more heat rises to my face, my heart a booming song I'm sure the other two hear.

Dad's features contort to even more concern as he walks over to where I'm still partially frozen, my skinny legs wobbling as I glance behind him at Derek, who knows exactly why I am like this. "You feel OK son? Do you need some medicine? It's only 9. But if you're tired I guess Derek and I can spend some quality bonding time together. Unless you want him with you?" He winks, which looks more like his right eye had a spasm, the gesture awkward and making the atmosphere around me even more heavy, my heart in my throat as I shrug.

"I'm fine, just tired. Plus I promised Scott I would go Christmas shopping with him tomorrow, it's his only day off this week until after Christmas and he wants to buy something nice for Allison, since it's close to their anniversary. So I better get some sleep to wake up early tomorrow and head out."

It's not a lie, but it's also not the full truth. Like I would tell him the full truth. 

Like "Hey I feel shaky and nervous because my boyfriend really wants to take me to town and he's oh so dominate."

Yeah, no. 

Not happening. 

No matter how much he says I can talk to him and he'll listen, it isn't happening. 

Those words that slid from Derek's mouth are only staying between his mouth and my ears. It's like Vegas, what happens there stays there.

I swallow again, needing to be alone for a little bit, to sort my thoughts out before they devour me whole. I nod again to nothing or no one in particular, as Dad raises an eyebrow.

"Okay. I guess that means Derek and I will do some Christmas shopping tomorrow as well. How does that sound?" He turns his attention to Derek, who has long lost his smirk and now has his innocent boy smile back on, as he nods to my dad.

"That sounds pretty good to me, I haven't been able to go shopping for Stiles yet, so I guess this is the perfect chance to. I think I'll accept that invitation Mr. Stilinski."

My Father nods. "Good. I have some shopping to do for him too. And now I need to get Christmas dinner. You're going to be here for that, right Derek?"

"Of course. That is, if your son wants me here."

Both slide their attention in my direction, and I try to perk up, sliding my thoughts into a cage and locking it closed hard and as fast and I can. "No, I don't want you here." I pause, waiting for the effect. "Of course I want you here, dumbass!" My usual sarcasm works in distracting myself from my thoughts, and to erase that familiar look of concern from my Dads' ever aging features.

They chuckle in response to the sarcasm, Derek's coming out more close to a growl than a laugh, but I still categorize it in the laugh sound category. "Good, because he was going to be invited either way." My father says, chuckling again and shaking his head.

"Alright well I'm going to finish cleaning up here and then hit the sack, you two can go spend some time together."

Derek looks at me as Dad moves to the sink, turning on the faucet, the softly warm and steaming water rushing form it the only sound filling the empty space between the three of us, along with the soft sounds of Christmas lyrics, Derek moving his legs in my direction, a hand extending in my direction as well.

"I think we're going to head upstairs now, Dad." I say to his back, his shoulders shifting back and forth as he washes the dishes rhythmically, putting the newly cleaned and wet dishes on the cloth.

"Alright you two. Night, sweet dreams and see the both of ya in the morn."

"Night Mr. Stilinski."

"Night Dad."

I take Derek's hand as I lead him in our leave towards the upscale stairs, the sound of Nat King Cole in our wake, serenading my cleaning Father, who hums happily along to the old tune.