Derek slowly played with Stiles' hair, as he talked. "Steak would be nice," He said, smiling. "Or a huge plate of spaghetti and meatballs, with parmesan cheese." Derek said, imagining the most delicious pasta he could muster.
"Ice cream for dessert?" Stiles asked, his eyes still closed.
"Sure," Derek said. "And apple pie." His mouth was salivating as he imagined the food.
"Lemonade, too." Stiles said. "And grilled cheese sandwiches," his voice slurring a little as drifted off.
Stiles shivered, and stuck his hands deep in his sleeves. He felt cold, even with his two layers. Derek reached down and put his hand on Stiles' hoodie, feeling his chest slowly rise and fall as he slept.
Though Derek couldn't see him, he could hear Stiles' even breathing. He closed his eyes. Derek must have dozed off, because when he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that Stiles was no longer lying beside him. He felt around in the inky blackness.
"Stiles?" He called out. "Where'd you go?"
"Right here," Stiles said, his voice close to Derek. "I needed to stretch out."
Derek reached out again, his hand brushing against Stiles' soft hoodie –clad form lying on his stomach a few feet away. He carefully laid down beside him, Derek's face resting on his folded arms.
"What time do you think it is?" Stiles asked, yawning.
"I don't know." Derek whispered. They lay in silence for a few minutes, interrupted by a deep growling sound coming from Derek's stomach.
"Please tell me that was your stomach," Stiles said, half-asleep. "And not some angry animal in here with us."
"It was my stomach." Derek told him, laughing.
"Good to know." Stiles said, rubbing his eyes.
Derek rolled onto his side, and draped his arm across Stiles' lower back.
"I'm not hurting you, am I?" Derek asked, remembering Stiles' bruises.
"No." Stiles answered, turning his head towards Derek's voice. He could smell a mixture of the musty carpet, and Derek's aftershave. He inhaled deeply, and smiled.
"You owe me a kiss," Stiles said. "Now's a pretty good time."
Derek leaned closer, and bumped ungraciously against Stiles' cheek as he attempted to find his mouth in the dark.
Stiles sat up, and slid his hand underneath Derek's shirt as they kissed. He could feel Derek's warm skin, and the ridges of his muscled torso. He reached further upwards, and rubbed his thumb against Derek's right nipple.
Derek broke off the kiss, and pulled Stiles' hand out from his shirt. "Sorry, your hands are freezing," he explained, as he brought Stiles' fingers to his mouth and kissed them gently. Derek enveloped Stiles' hands with his own, and tried to warm them up.
Derek heard a loud thumping noise outside of the elevator, followed by a man's voice.
"Did you hear that?" He whispered.
"Yeah."
There was a loud screech as the metal doors were pried open. Derek and Stiles squeezed their eyes shut, temporarily blinded. The elevator was filled with light from the hallway. When Stiles opened his eyes half a minute later, he was relieved to see Sheriff Stilinski standing in the hallway beside the building's custodian.
"Hey, son," The Sheriff said, beaming at him.
"Oh, thank god." Stiles said, as his dad pulled him close into a swaying hug. Sheriff Stilinski had always been a really great hugger, and Stiles was glad to feel his dad's comforting arms tightly gripping him. When Stiles drew back, his dad noticed with concern the bruise on his son's forehead.
"Are you okay?" the Sheriff asked, gently lifting Stiles' hair to get a closer look at the injury.
"I'm fine," Stiles told him, turning around to look for Derek. He saw him standing awkwardly a few feet away, watching as the custodian affixed the 'out of service' sign on the elevator doors with a few large pieces of duct tape.
"That's my neighbour, Derek Hale. He lives next door." Stiles told his dad.
Derek nodded at Stiles' dad. "Thanks for getting us out of there."
"Well, if it hadn't been for your phone call, Stiles, I never would have known you two were trapped." The Sheriff admitted, placing a hand on Derek's shoulder. "I'm just glad you are safe."