Stiles slammed the door of his room hard and dropped onto his bed. With a dramatic sigh, he dug his phone out of his pocket and stabbed his finger at the screen for a few seconds and dialed. "Come on, Derek." He said softly. "Just this once, pick up."
His face fell when he got Derek's voicemail. He steeled himself and after the beep he left a halting message.
"Hey, Der….I was just calling…I had a really rotten day. I forgot to take my meds this morning and I fought with, like, everyone today because I was all….whatever just….call me back, okay?" he said and ended the call, dropping the phone onto the bed and closing his eyes.
Without opening them, he groped about on his bedside table, where he was reasonably sure his headphones were. Finally his hand curled around the bundle of thin wire and he opened his eyes to make sense of the tangle he had gotten them into. He really had to get Lydia to teach him how she kept hers rolled up like she did. Once he got them straightened out, he plugged them in and flipped through several playlists before settling on an old stand by for times like this, closed his eyes again and just listened.
Derek knocked sharply on his boyfriend's bedroom window and waited. When the window didn't open he frowned, cupping his hands around his eyes and looking inside.
Stiles was laying on his bed, headphones in his ears. With a sigh, he sat up. It took only a few moments of focus to extend his claws and open the window from the outside. He slipped inside and smiled down at the sleeping boy.
Reluctant to wake him up, he instead crawled onto the bed next to him and settled his head on Stiles's chest. The other boy didn't stir but now that he was so close, Derek could hear the music coming from the headphones and snorted loudly, waking Stiles.
"Derek!" he said with surprise. "When did you get here?"
"A few seconds ago." The werewolf replied, then grinned. "So…Celine Dion?' he said, his dark eyebrow shooting up to his hairline.
Stiles turned pink and rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow. "Hey," Derek said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry mon tresor, I was only teasing." He said and shook him gently. "Stiles?"
Stiles lifted his head and looked at Derek with a sad expression and took a deep breath. "When I was little…like, four or five, Dad got my mom this tape for Christmas," he said, tapping the screen of his phone where the album cover was displayed, "and she loved it. When we went placed together, just me and her, she would put it in and turn it up really loud and she would sing to me." He said, the words punctuated by a dry sob.
Derek looked at him sympathetically and ran his hand up and down Stiles's back. After a beat, he continued. "Anyway, it was kind of our thing." He said.
They sat in silence for a while. Stiles sat up and snuggled against Derek's side and the other boy slid his arm around him. "Derek," Stiles said softly after a minute, "What does 'mon tresor' mean?"
Derek smiled and cleared his throat. "It's French. It means my treasure." He said.
"My treasure?" Stiles asked, shifting to look at Derek.
"Yeah, if you don't like it I can-" he began but Stiles cut him off by pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
"I love it." he said, and kissed him again. One kiss turned into twelve and when Derek was finally able to tear himself away and leave, Stiles decided that his day had been pretty good after all.
