This is my first fic in a while, so, I hope you like it!
"I'm just gonna lay here for a few minutes, okay? You are ridiculously comfortable like this." His words were muffled, seeing as how he had practically buried his face in Derek's coat. Derek huffed, but made no other signs of protest, letting Stiles cling to him.
Stiles lifted his head a bit to ask, "Can everyone else do this, or is it just an Alpha thing?" Derek stared at him. "Right, wolf. Can't talk. Never mind, I'll ask later." And then Stiles planted his face right back into Derek's underarm. He didn't understand exactly why Derek was letting him do this is in the first place, but maybe he enjoyed this too.
It had been a long night. The Alpha Pack seemed to just be toying with them now, leaping from trees and taking down whoever was closest. They never hurt any of the pack too bad, only leaving them scratched and bruised. Stiles couldn't figure out what their objective was, and Derek was ready to start tearing out his hair strand by strand. Tonight had been particularly brutal. One of the alphas had gotten a little overenthusiastic in his scrap with Isaac, and dug his claws in deep into Isaac's flank.
Isaac had dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, curling in on himself and howling in pain. Boyd leapt out from between the trees and tackled down the alpha, snarling and snapping in his face, and sent the alpha off with three cracked ribs and an arm broken in two places. By then, the rest of the pack had found them and Derek picked Isaac up as carefully as he could before bringing him back to the Hale house.
They were all a little worse for wear, covered in rapidly healing cuts and bruises. Except for Stiles, who would keep his wounds for at least a week. He wrapped up what he could, and helped clean up Isaac's wound, rubbing his hands along the side of the teen's neck and through his hair to keep him calm.
As soon as Stiles was done, the rest of the pack closed in, situating themselves around and against Isaac, nuzzling him and on occasion, licking at whatever bare skin they could reach. Derek had explained this to him, once. He said it helped them heal faster, knowing that they were safe and around those who would protect them if need be. That was the advantage of pack. There was always someone there to hold you close when you needed it. Sometimes, Stiles wishes he had something like that.
Derek had retreated to his room after he made sure his pack was okay, brushing his hand against each one to relieve a bit of the pain. Stiles watched as they all strained their necks towards their alpha, settling only when they've made contact. He watched the lines in Derek's forehead smooth out one by one. Knowing that they were safe was enough for him.
Then Derek turned around and walked over to Stiles, cupping his hands around Stiles' jaw and brushing his thumb against the gash on cheek. Stiles felt the pain from the wound slowly fade away, and watched the veins in Derek's arm darken and then disappear. He watched Derek turn away from him and ascend up the stairs, two at a time. He watched. All he does is watch. All he ever can do is watch, and he's sick of it.
So, he follows Derek up the stairs.
Stiles has never seen Derek's room before. He's never even been on the second floor. After walking into the wrong room, twice, he was close to just giving up and going back downstairs. But the floorboard in the room across the hall squeaks, and he's found Derek. Or what he's pretty sure is Derek.
Sitting on the bed in the middle of the room is an enormous black wolf. Normally in situations like these, Stiles would freak out. He'd yell and run downstairs, grabbing whatever's closest to him and start swinging. He was more than ready to do so before the wolf turned to look at him with a pair of irritated red eyes. Stiles let out a sigh. Leave it to Derek to scare the shit out of him and then be annoyed about it.
"Derek, what the fuck. Seriously. What. The fuck. Why am I even surprised? Whatever. I'm coming on, so move over." Derek didn't move, but he swept his tail in invitation, so Stiles climbed onto the bed and flopped down on his stomach, face lost somewhere in fluffy black fur. And this brings us back to the present, and Derek has his eyes closed, head resting on his paws.
Stiles turns over on his side to look at the wolf, holding a fistful on fur in his right hand, his left trapped underneath him. He rises along with every breath Derek takes, the silence comfortable between the two of them. He can't help himself when he asks, "You need it too, don't you?" When Derek cracks open an eye to look at Stiles, he elaborates. "The physical contact. The betas all cuddle downstairs and heal each other, but you don't stay with them. You need to heal too, Derek. The alpha you fought with was pretty brutal. If anything, I'd say you need it more than the four of them, excluding Isaac."
When Derek turns his head away, Stiles understands. "You don't let them see, do you? You play the tough alpha, but really, you are just as broken as they are. You weren't always an alpha, Derek. Sometimes, I think you need the comfort just as much as they do." Stiles tightens his grip on the tuft of fur he has in his fist, and Derek makes a low, pleased sound in his throat. He curves his tail around Stiles' middle, tucking his face against the teen's leg, and gives Stiles's exposed calf a short lick. And well, if they fall asleep there on that bed together, who needs to know?