Prompt: stockings

Word Count: 996

Pairing: Sterek (and idk you might interpret some of this as Stisaac but I was aiming for the mom/son relationship there)

Finally Family

Someone was knocking on their door really loudly, Stiles realized. The next thing he noticed was that his face was pressed into the carpet and his butt was in the air.

He sat up and glared at Derek. "Did you just kick me out of the bed?"

Derek, half-asleep, just flicked his hand at Stiles dismissively. "Door."

So Stiles glared at him for a few more seconds, and then crossed the room to open the door.

Isaac practically fell in, eyes wide. "Stiles, the cookies are gone."

And suddenly it was totally worth it to be awake at six because Isaac looked overwhelmed with joy.

Isaac bounced on the balls of his feet. "Can we…will you…stockings?"

Stiles grinned. "Hell yeah!" he yelled.

Derek growled from the bed.

Isaac grabbed Stiles arm and pulled him out of the room and down the hall before Derek could do something drastic, like pin them both down (Isaac would probably get physically hurt by that and then mentally scarred by witnessing something going on between his "parents" because that was gross).

Stiles could tell Isaac was nervous about something, but he didn't want to push him. Talking to Isaac about emotional things was still something you had to be careful about. Push too far and Isaac turned into a fountain of tears that wouldn't move for hours. Which was totally fine, because Stiles didn't mind comforting his third-favorite werewolf (on some days, second-favorite. Only if Scott was being more of a douche than normal) but that also usually meant that he was crushed under the much larger boy for several hours without respite.

And he didn't want Isaac to cry on Christmas—that would really suck, okay?

So he just let himself be pulled down the stairs and into the living room.

No need to worry about Isaac, though—he must have thought one of his packmates had eaten the cookies and Santa hadn't actually come. At least, that's what Stiles assumed, because as soon as Isaac saw the stockings, all the tension left his body for a brief second, before he was practically vibrating with exuberance. Not happiness. Frickin' exuberance. Stiles allowed himself to feel smug.

"Can I open mine?" Isaac demanded, tugging on Stiles' arm.

"Yeah," Stiles replied, grinning. "Go nuts, kid."

Isaac beamed at him and raced across the room. He ripped his stocking off the nail it was hanging on, grabbed Stiles' stocking, threw it at him, and then ran across the room to sit on the couch, where he waited patiently for Stiles to join him.

Stiles was still pretty happy and smug, but he was pretty sure his expression was coming across as excited to see whatever "Santa" had gotten them. He hoped.

He was excited to see Isaac react to the gift, so he made Isaac go first.

As he'd suspected, Isaac loved the comic books Stiles had purchased (nothing really special, just new Captain America editions that Isaac hadn't read yet). Isaac just looked so happy that Stiles couldn't stop himself from hugging him. Isaac hugged him back and rubbed his face in Stiles' neck. "Your turn," he said, voice muffled into Stiles' shoulder.

Then Stiles remembered that he bought an awesome gift for himself (he should be Santa every year) and got excited about that, too. He could finally read the book.

He pretended to be surprised when he opened what he'd bought, and happily thumbed through the pages. Isaac didn't move from his position of leaning against Stiles, but he did adjust himself so he could read the comics while Stiles read his magic book.

The rest of the pack stumbled down the stairs at varying intervals, each of them sitting near Stiles while opening their presents.

Erica pretended to be contrite about her claim that Santa wasn't real from the day before and apologized to Isaac. So that was good. But when Isaac wasn't looking, she mouthed a "thank you" to Stiles.

He just winked.

When Isaac finished his comic, he said, "Does this mean we're a real family now?"

Stiles started. "What?"

"Because Santa came. We have a real house and we love each other. Does that make us family?"

"Of course," Stiles said, and he played with Isaac's hair for a minute. "But you know Santa coming isn't what made us a family, right? Because Santa didn't come to my house after my mom died. Dad and I were still family."

Isaac sat up and turned to look at Stiles, knocking Stiles' hand out of his hair in the process. He frowned at him. "Santa didn't come? Why?"

Stiles shrugged, and wondered, again, how weird he'd been as a kid. "I wrote him a letter asking him not to. I didn't want Christmas without my mom." And by the time he'd started to miss it, he knew Santa wasn't real. But he didn't say that out loud because he was not going to shred any remaining innocence in Isaac.

"Oh," Isaac said, and nodded like that made sense. "So…why did he come this year?"

Stiles gnawed on his lip for a minute. "Well, maybe he just knew I was ready. Maybe you're right, and he saw that we were finally family."

Isaac accepted that as an answer and returned to his earlier position of way-too-close-to-Stiles-but-lets-be-honest-it's-kind-of-nice, and started reading another comic book.

Derek walked up behind them, and ruffled Isaac's hair before rubbing Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles interpreted that as "Good job" and pretended it also meant "You are the best boyfriend/pack mom ever and deserve all the awards."

In Derek-speak that's probably what "good job" actually meant, so Stiles didn't feel bad about reading between the lines.

Isaac hummed a soft sound of contentment when Derek moved around the couch to sit with them, an arm around Stiles and a hand messing with Isaac's curls.

Derek kissed his cheek, and he decided that the grouchy wolf actually had meant the longer version.

Stiles couldn't wait until next Christmas eve.

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

A/N: This concludes The Stiles Clause trilogy. Hope you enjoyed! Written for the 25 Days of Ficmas. Also I think this one is a lot less funny than the other two? Idk it just made me emotional.