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In this rip in the universe, it was Christmas time. Derek sat on the train, not exactly sure how he got here. He had heard rumours about the Polar Express, but he was pretty sure it was for children- he didn't think 24 constituted as a child, but he wasn't in any position to argue. Beside him, Stiles bounced in his seat, also probably too old but seemingly uncaring.
"We're on a magic train," he told Derek, smirking. His shoulder bumped into Derek's, tone almost casual. "We're on. A magic. Train. I am very much pleased about the lack of awful things tonight, because. You know. Magic train."
"Unless we crash and burn in a fiery wreck," Derek supplied, looking very much like the sourwolf he was.
"Unlikely." The Conductor was suddenly next to them, glaring down his hawk-like nose with an all-knowing smile. He was blond under his hat, and his name tag shone with a polished "Holmes". "As you have mentioned several times upon sitting here, this is a magic train. Watson is quite reliable and I can assure you we won't crash."
"Told you." Stiles was positively gleeful. Derek is perturbed.
The train, both Watson and the Polar Express, apparently, piloted on.
Until they arrived. Promptly. And there was tea. And a musical number about tea.
Derelk doesn't want to talk about it. The entire experience apparently turned him half werewolf, half elk.
They're still not talking about it.
The North Pole seemed more city-like than Derelk thought it should be. According to wikipedia, it was a frozen wasteland. Being surrounded by tiny people with helium voices reminded him too much of New York, but he still wasn't saying anything about it because Stiles was jumping up and down, asking every suddenly-appearing elf a barrage of questions. Only some of them answered cos after a while even the elves were tired of Stiles' voice. Derek wasn't even when he pretended he did because he was secretly in love with him.
The North Pole was also a lot greener than Derelk thought it should be. When Santa finally arrived, Stiles let out a squeal like a manly little girl. Santa was like, eight feet tall. Maybe nine. He was also green. Because of the rip in the universe, the colour waves were now refracting differently, making green the shorter light wave, thus casting everything into a green hue. But also Santa was the Hulk. Stiles liked this. He liked green, Santa, and the Hulk.
"I like all of these things," he exclaimed, punching Derek in the arm.
"HULKSANTA WELCOMES YOU TO GREEN NORTH POLE. HULKSANTA ALSO LIKES ALL OF THESE THINGS."
"We have a lot in common, Hulk Santa. More than me and Freud. We just have an interest in penis in common."
AND THEN THE FRIGHT BEGAN!
THEN SUDDENLY, Sherlock-SmaugGrinch appeared with his companion, Watson-RobotHobbitDog, breathing fire angstily.
"HULKSANTA AND SHERLOCK-SMAUGGRINCH MEET AGAIN. SHERLOCK-SMAUGGRINCH IS ON NAUGHTY LIST. HULKASANTA WILL SMASH."
"Unlikely. What are you still doing here, you green fool? There is no Dana, only Zule."
Stiles pointed his finger at the green detective dragon. "I get that reference."
"Since I'm on the naughty list, you have made me quite pissed. So I shall steal all the gifts, and I shall not give no shits."
"Wow, double negative, you really are drunk." Stiles doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. "Why are you rhyming?"
"SHERLOCK-SMAUGGRINCH IS PUNY DRAGON WHO HATES CHRISTMAS. SHERLOCK-SMAUGGRINCH IS BRITISH."
"That doesn't make any sense," said Derelk. "I don't even know what's happening."
Derelk is probably tripping the truest holiday balls.
"back in 1987, when I was a lad, I didn't get what I wanted, and I was sad. All I wanted was a crumpet, a crumpet with jam. All I got instead, was a giant ham."
"You are a giant ham." Stiles was way too fucking happy for this scenario. He dug into his pajama pockets though, tongue sticking out before he made a little victory noise. "Here! Crumpet?"
Sherlock-SmaugDragon's heart grew three sizes that day. Watson-RobotHobbitDog doesn't have a heart, because he's a robot. A robot who likes jewelry. But his paws can't fit the one ring that will rule them all, so they're kind of at a stalemate there. This plan probably would have gone better if it did.
Deciding things were at a stalemate, they had their pre-first-Christmas-gift feast. Of green eggs and ham.
Nobody told HulkSanta that Rudolph was allergic. This is something that should PROBABLY HAVE BEEN. On his emergency paperwork. But the deed was done now.
"Hey Derek," Stiles said, shovelling eggs in his face because that shit was delicious and better than roast beast, he doesn't care what any fucking Who says. "You have a great nose."
"Thanks for that non-sequitor there, Stiles," Derelk responded, still glaring broodily, because he still doesn't know what the fuck is going on but he's grown antlers, and that can't be healthy.
"I just MEAN, God Derek. You can replace Rudolph at the head of the sleigh, because your nose is so bright. With senses. You can smell your way around the world."
"You're taking all of this in way too much stride."
"I live with Werewolves. I kind of have too. Where's your sense of Christmas Spirit."
Derelk didn't get much say in this, and the next thing he knows, he's being buckled into the head of the sleigh. He isn't nearly as excited as the other fucking reindeer. Maybe because he was half elk.
"HULKSANTA NEEDS TO GIVE PUNY STILES GIFT NOW. HULKSANTA DEMANDS TO KNOW WHAT PUNY STILES WANTS."
"Puny Stiles knows exactly what he wants," said Stiles. "Puny Stiles wants Derek's dick."
'HULKSANTA GRANTS WISH. PUNY STILES MUST WAIT TIL HULKSANTA RETURN WITH HALF WEREWOLF HALF ELK BOYFRIEND."
"I hate it here." Derelk is getting kind of fed up with this shit.
AND THEN THEY WERE OFF.
"Don't worry," the Conductor said out of nowhere, patting the Watson Polar Express lovingly. Almost... too lovingly. "Hulk Santa is a man of his word. You'll get that dick on Christmas morn. I know I did." Looking over at Watson Polar Express.
"I ship it." Stiles is a multishipper.
AND THEN EVERYONE LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.