(+2 months) Coming home to find Stiles curled up asleep in his bed, wrapped up in blankets and sucking his thumb, closely followed the look of dismay on Stiles' face when he finds out he's taken a photo on his cell phone of said thumb sucking incident.
Derek smiles slightly to himself when he pulls into the parking lot opposite his apartment and sees Stiles' Jeep, parked haphazardly across two spaces. Stiles' poor parking is a bone of contention with Mrs. Gutierrez who lives below him; she came up to his apartment a few weeks back to complain about how other people needed to use the parking lot too, and that he should tell his visitors (he's still not entirely sure if she meant 'people who probably come to buy drugs' or 'your jailbait boyfriend') to park more carefully. He's not really sure why Mrs. Gutierrez cares so much, considering she doesn't drive and the parking lot is always half empty anyway and figures it's just one of those old person things. He actually quite likes Mrs. Gutierrez and it makes him sad when he hears her muttering away on the phone in Spanish about how she suspects he's a drug dealer.
He rushes across the parking lot, keen to get out of the driving rain that's been the crap icing on the shitty day he's been having. Knowing that Stiles is waiting for him is the one little bright spot in his day so far.
He's surprised to find that Stiles hasn't installed himself on the couch when he enters the apartment. Normally when he comes home to find Stiles already there, he's lodged on the couch, TV blaring in the background while he distracts himself with his laptop, regaling Derek with anecdotes about his day; last time Stiles had come over, there had been a long winded, circuitous diatribe about how Isaac had been "a massive douchenozzle". Derek had become so distracted watching Stiles mouth as he spoke, the way he gestured with his hands and licked his lips every other word that by the time he was finished, Derek had absolutely no idea what Isaac was supposed to have done to deserve such a title. Throwing his wet jacket over the back of the couch, he heads towards his bedroom where he can hear Stiles' heartbeat, slow and steady.
Pushing open the bedroom door, he finds Stiles fast asleep in his bed, buried under several blankets, his thumb wedged in his mouth. Derek pulls his phone from his pocket, unable to resist getting a photo of Stiles; if he finds it, he'll lie and say it's just in case he needs to blackmail him, not because he thinks Stiles looks adorable when he's sleeping because he's sure Stiles will find some nefarious way to use that against him.
One of the things that had surprised him the most when he first started sleeping with Stiles – sleeping in the same bed as Stiles – was how deep a sleeper he is. He'd expected Stiles to wake up at the slightest provocation, startling and flailing, much like he does when he's awake. Stiles, it turns out, is quite the opposite and Derek is entirely convinced that he could sleep through a bomb going off. He still toes off his sneakers as quietly as possible before removing his jeans and slipping into bed, curling up behind Stiles and snaking one arm around his waist. Stiles doesn't respond, and Derek gently pulls him closer, pressing a kiss against the back of neck and whispering his name.
"Mmm?" Stiles stretches lazily, putting Derek in mind of a cat, before yawning deeply and pushing back against Derek's chest.
"Hey."
"Hey. Sorry, I got sleepy."
"S'OK." Derek rubs his forehead against the back of Stiles' neck and hugs him tightly. "Why are you in my bed?"
"I had this plan," Stiles yawns again, "It was going to involve lots of nakedness and sex, but then your bed was really comfy and it smells like you and I guess I fell asleep waiting for you."
"You're not naked." Derek points out, tugging on the back of Stiles' shirt before slipping his hand underneath and splaying his fingers across the warm skin of Stiles' stomach.
"Like I said, comfy bed, smells Derek-y, fell asleep." Stiles laughs quietly, turning his head slightly so he can look at Derek and smiles drowsily. "Hey again."
"Hey yourself." Derek smiles back and presses a soft kiss against Stiles' lips. "Sounds like it was a good plan."
"Oh the plan can still happen!" Stiles suggests, trying to wriggle out of Derek's grip and failing miserably.
"Maybe later."
"I can work with later."
Derek smiles, sliding his other arm underneath Stiles' neck when he lifts his head off the pillow slightly and snuggles back against him, making contented little noises and pulling the blanket further up over his shoulder. He closes his eyes, listening to the sound of the rain hitting the window, the feel of Stiles' fingers trailing along his forearm, his heartbeat slowing gradually as he wanders that fine line between sleep and wakefulness. As fun as Stiles' plan sounds, he thinks he'd be happy to stay just like this for the rest of the afternoon, rest of the day, possibly even the rest of time.
"Hey Derek?" Stiles murmurs, running his fingers across Derek's knuckles.
"Mm?"
"Love you."
Derek sighs happily, tightening his hold on Stiles and nuzzles his forehead against Stiles' shoulder. "I love you too." He smiles to himself as he hears Stiles' heartbeat speed up slightly at those words, the way it always when he tells him he loves him.
"Stiles?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for being here."
Stiles shrugs and snuggles back against him, ducking his head to kiss his forearm. Derek smiles against his back, feeling ever so slightly pleased that Stiles can't see him grinning like an idiot; he's managed to make Derek completely forget why he was ever having a shitty day.