From a Tumblr prompt.
Stiles woke up.
Staring at the ceiling, he blearily wondered why it didn't look quite right - not unfamiliar, but still not his own trusty bedroom ceiling. A small sound coming from nearby brought the memories back.
In light of all the events of the last two years, with near constant terror and panic, Stiles had taken advantage of the recent lapse of chaos and declared a bros night at Scott's, just the two of them. They'd play games, eat junk food, and generally hang out, without any furry distractions or deadly peril. A break. It had even worked! They'd both been tense for the first hour or two, waiting for something to happen, but after that they'd gradually mellowed out, until around two in the morning Scott had fallen asleep, and Stiles had quickly followed him.
And that brought him to here, lying on the floor in Scott's bedroom, wondering why he'd woken.
The small sound came again, louder than before. Stiles rolled over, looking up at Scott in his bed. "Scott? You awake?"
Scott tossed onto his side, one arm slipping off the bed.
"Scott?" Stiles pulled himself up further.
Scott moaned, a soft, painful sound.
Stiles awkwardly patted the hand hanging off the bed. "Hey, Scotty, it's okay."
A moan came again, slightly quieter than before. Scott's hand reached out, and Stiles grabbed it with his own. Scott's tossing slackened, anchored by Stiles' grip.
Stiles sighed. "Blanket hog," he grumbled, climbing into the bed beside Scott. "You're a werewolf, why do you even need blankets?" He put one arm around Scott, bringing the other boy close. Scott's moaning tapered off, and Stiles felt Scott's body relax beside him. With this knowledge, he closed his eyes, and joined his brother in sleep.