Stiles had never really considered the doors of the lockers a comfortable surface. He really hadn't. So maybe it wasn't so much the surface of the locker doors he currently found comfort in, but much more the hands clutching his shirt to hold him in place while his eyes was focused on thin lips making threats he didn't hear. So maybe he was a little more focused on imagining stubble burns from the dark shade covering a jawline so sharp it should be punishable by law. so maybe Stiles had a problem. And maybe the problem was Derek Hale.