Recently got into this fandom, and I needed to write something.
Heavy in Your Arms (But it's Worth the Wait)
Stiles thought he really should be more surprised when he stepped out of the shower (the shower where at least the water was warm, but it was still water which was simply unacceptable) and found Derek Hale sitting in the edge of his bed. Really, he should be surprised, because having a werewolf sneak into your room is (probably) not something most people expect. But Stiles had almost grown accustomed to finding Derek in his room (and there was really something very wrong with that), and nothing really surprised him anymore.
If he was shivering at all (which he totally was), it had (almost) nothing to do with the fact that there was a werewolf in his room (because this wasn't surprising), or that said werewolf was kind of frightening (because he was hardly afraid of Derek. Anymore. Probably. Maybe), but because he was really fucking cold (the scalding hot shower had been nice, and warm, but he was pretty sure it would take a lot more to get rid of the feeling of ice soaked through to his bones). Yes, his teeth were chattering and his bones were shaking and the movement made every muscle in his body ache even more (if he stopped moving altogether, even stopped breathing, he thought it might hurt a little less, but he had no idea how to stop, even for just a few seconds).
"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to keep himself from shaking, but knew it would be pointless, because no matter how quiet he thought his chattering might be, Derek would still be able to hear it (and no matter how much he told his heart to shut the fuck up, it was still beating rapidly and Derek could hear that too).
"Checking on you," Derek said, as though that was a completely normal thing for him to be doing (it wasn't; Derek didn't care about him, Derek didn't care about anyone, so really, this situation pretty much didn't make sense).
Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Wanna try that again with something that doesn't sound insane?"
"I was worried about you."
"Have you been body snatched? Because really, you aren't making any sense." He didn't want to deal with Derek nonsense. He was too tired, and too cold (so cold that he felt like he'd probably never really be warm again, like his body had forgotten how, just like it had forgotten how to roller blade after the fourth grade).
"We were in that pool for over two hours. You're lucky to be alive."
"You're lucky to be alive." He wouldn't be, if Stiles hadn't been there (he almost regretted not letting him drown, or get eaten by the Kanima. Almost).
"Yes. I wanted to thank you."
Stiles blinked several times (because, holy shit, who was this guy and what had he done with the real Derek?). "Seriously, man, I don't know what's wrong with you, but can you just not right now. I'm cold and sore and I'd really like to just climb into bed and die. Which I can't do because you're sitting on it. So whatever is-"
Stiles didn't even have the chance to process the fact that Derek had gotten up, before he found himself in the werewolf's arms. (His heart skipped beat when he realized, and he knew there was no way Derek hadn't heard that.)
"Dude-" he said, but doesn't know how to finish that thought (because Derek is really fucking warm and he kind of doesn't want him to let go. Ever).
Derek moved to release him, but Stiles' arms were wrapped around him now and he wasn't letting go. "Warm," he mumbled into Derek's shirt. The sound that came from Derek seemed almost like a laugh (but he couldn't be sure because he'd never heard him laugh before and even the thought of it was insane). And as crazy as it was that Derek might have just laughed, it was crazier still that he had wrapped his arms back around Stiles (and it should have been even crazier that Stiles really, really didn't want to let him go). "Warm," he said again, burying his face as deep into his chest as he could (he didn't care that this situation was completely weird, or that he was totally acting like a total girl, because Derek was warm.)
"Come on," Derek said after a moment. "Let's get you into bed." Stiles mumbled something incomprehensible but allowed himself to be dragged to his bed (literally dragged, because he was so sore, he was pretty sure he couldn't have walked the distance if he'd tried). Derek picked him up and set him gingerly in the bed, then pulled the thick blankets over him.
"Mmm," Stiles whined, reaching for Derek as he moved away (he would deny it later, but right then he was in a delusional state of almost-sleep mixed with too many painkillers and really liked the feel of Derek's body against his own).
"Goodnight, Stiles." Derek moved toward the window, then looked back as Stiles sighed and tried to warm himself under the blankets. He was shaking again, his teeth chattering like he didn't know how to be warm. "You're still cold."
"No shit, Sherlock."
"You want me to find another blanket?"
"I want you to stay here and do that thing where you make me warm." GOD, he did not just say that out loud. He really hoped that Derek didn't hear him (but knew he did, because he was Derek, and a werewolf with super hearing), and he hoped that he would just attribute it to his slightly delusional state and forget all about it, and he really hoped he himself would forget this whole night by morning (because he really doesn't want to relive that embarrassing moment of weakness for the rest of his life).
"Stiles-"
"Come on," Stiles said, (he wished desperately that there was an off button that operated his mouth, but there wasn't). "I promise I'll be good and keep my hands to myself. You're warm and cuddly for a big scary monster. Is that a werewolf thing, or a Derek thing? I think I read somewhere that werewolves have a higher ambient temperature than humans, but I have had a chance to really test it." Once again, he was so wrapped up in his rambling that he didn't actually noticed that Derek had moved until he was next to him in bed, under the blankets, with his arms wrapped around him. "Hi."
"Hi, Stiles," he said. His voice was softer than Stiles had ever heard it, and it was almost completely lacking in that typical sound of annoyance that was always there when he was talking to Stiles (or, pretty much anyone, because he was always a big sourwolf and always annoyed with everyone. Expect apparently right now, which made the whole night that much weirder. But in the scheme of things, maybe not that weird).
"See? Warm," Stiles said, relaxing into Derek (that should have been weird too, but it really wasn't. What was weird was that Derek seemed almost relaxed as well. Almost). Stiles turned so he could see Derek's face, but wasn't any farther away than was absolutely necessary (because he was like fireplace warm and it was wonderful). "Thanks."
"Go to sleep, Stiles." There was almost no hostility in his voice (almost). Stiles smiled and buried his face is Derek's chest again. (He thought Derek should probably have smelled like a wet dog, but he didn't. He smelled like… Stiles didn't know what, but he liked it.)
"You're wrong, you know," Stiles said.
"What?"
"I hate you a lot of the time. Most of the time. But not really. And you scare me a little bit, but only sometimes. And-"
"The point, Stiles?"
"I do trust you." He said. Derek gave him a strange look (kind of like Stiles must have gone completely insane, which was probably true), so he continued to talk. "You've got this whole bad boy, don't care attitude, but you do care. At least a little bit. Maybe. You've saved my life more than a few times. And you never had to. But you did. You could have just let me die. But you've saved me. So yeah, I trust you." He stopped talking on his own, knowing that Derek was probably about to rip his throat out for talking too much (or for being stupid, or to prove that he was stupid for trusting him.)
"I trust you, too."
Well, that was unexpected (and Stiles' face probably echoed his internal surprise at that confession.)
"Yeah"
"You just kept me from drowning for over two hours. And its not the first time you've saved me. Not many people would do what you've done. If there's anyone I trust, it's you."
"I am pretty awesome, aren't I?"
"Yeah, you're awesome," Derek said with a slight roll of his eyes.
Stiles smiled. "You're kind of awesome too. Like Oreo cookies awesome. Or mint chocolate chip ice cream. Or-"
"Stiles."
"I know, I know, I'll shut up." But of course, he didn't shut up, because he never could (there wasn't an off switch. He'd searched). "I think I kind of like you. Do like you. Kind of a lot." (He was going to hate himself in the morning for not knowing how to turn off the part of his brain that's connected to his mouth).
But Derek seemed to have found the one sure-fire way of shutting him up. Derek's lips were only pressed to his for a split second, but its enough for Stiles to miss them the moment they were gone (he definitely didn't whine as Derek pulled away. Nope. That was his story and he was sticking to it).
"Shut up and go to sleep," Derek said.
"Okay," Stiles said in a small voice. He buried his face in Derek again, but it was only a moment or two before he was looking at him again.
"What?" Derek asked.
"So… does that mean you like me, too? Or are you just-"
"Stiles."
"I know, shut up. But come on. You know I'll just keep bugging you until you give me an answer."
"Yes, Stiles. Yes. I like you, too."
Stiles smiled triumphantly and laid back down properly to go to sleep.
(Maybe he wasn't going to hate himself in the morning.)