Here we are everyone at the end of a story that spun completely out of control. Thank you all for reading and reviewing my story! I hope to have something new for you all soon. Reviews please!
Derek slowly reached for the remote control as the Netflix screen asked if they were still watching, being careful not to jostle the head resting on his shoulder. After turning off the tv, he tossed the remote onto the couch beside him, leaning his head against Stiles's lightly. His soft hair tickled his cheek a bit, the scent of his shampoo filling his noise. Stiles huffed quietly in his sleep, his arms momentarily tightening around the pillow he held against his chest before relaxing again.
All things considered, Derek thought it had been a pretty good afternoon. After having lunch -Stiles had managed to eat two bowls of soup and Derek's wolf was running laps out of joy, happy he could provide for him in this small way-, they'd crashed out on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. Derek was secretly thrilled he'd caved to the whims of the pack and updated his loft when he returned to Beacon Hills. Now there were comfortable couches for Stiles to relax on, covered in soft throw pillows selected by Lydia, and a brand new television hooked up with Netflix. The way Stiles rambled about the various pros and cons of their Netflix options, complete with flailing and ridiculous facial expressions, gave Derek so much hope that Stiles would eventually recover that he couldn't help arguing with Stiles about his choices just to hear him ramble a little more. Eventually they settled on the Planet Earth series, something interesting enough to keep them entertained but would inevitably put them to sleep. After a few episodes, Stiles's commentary began to slow down, his words slurring slightly until his head fell against Derek's shoulder as he dozed off.
"Stiles," Derek called gently, shaking his wrist slightly. "Stiles, wake up."
Stiles sniffled loudly as he woke, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He rubbed his cheek against Derek's shoulder a few times before raising his head. "Hmm," he mumbled sleepily as he turned his head toward Derek. "What's wrong?"
"Your neck is gonna kill you if you sleep down here," he answered as he stood, offering his hand to Stiles. "Let's go to bed."
"Kay," Stiles replied easily, slipping his hand into Derek's and letting his strength pull him to his feet. He stumbled into Derek briefly before straightening himself up.
Derek shook his head fondly as he took in Stiles's half closed eyes and messy hair. He was pretty sure if he left him alone, Stiles would fall asleep on his feet. "Come on, we gotta tackle the stairs," Derek murmured, placing his hands on Stiles's shoulders to lead him upstairs.
Stiles woke up more as they moved up the stairs, hands rubbing at his eyes. By the time they reached Derek's room, he was more or less awake, smothering yawns behind his hand. "I coulda slept on the couch," he mumbled as he flopped back onto the bed, a tired sigh leaving him. "But your bed is super nice too."
Derek rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore the comment as he searched through his drawers for something that would fit Stiles. Stiles was normally smaller than him, but with all the weight he had lost, he didn't know if he had anything that wouldn't drown Stiles in extra fabric. "Try not to fall asleep getting dressed," he commented as he threw a pair of draw string sweats and an old, shrunken Henley at Stiles's head, grinning at the indignant squawk he received in reply. Gathering up his shorts and a T-shirt, he headed across the hall to the bathroom.
Stiles was wrapped up in his blanket on the left side of the bed by the time Derek returned from the bathroom, his eyes half open. He pushed down the contentedness that filled his chest as he gazed at Stiles, basking in the relaxed, sleepy expression on the man's face. Now definitely was not the time for it. "Didn't fall asleep," Stiles said with a grin, pulling Derek from his thoughts as he raised the blanket in welcome.
He shook his head fondly as he walked over to his nightstand, picking up one of the many books he had stacked there. As much as his wolf whined to climb into the empty space beside Stiles, Derek knew it would be much smarter to head back to the living room. "Go back to sleep now," Derek replied. "I'll be downstairs."
"Wait, what?" Stiles said, scrambling out of his blanket cocoon to grab onto the back of Derek's shirt. His brown eyes were wide and alert as his fingers tightened their hold on his shirt. "Why?"
"To sleep," he answered, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "You take the bed and I'll sleep on the couch."
"No way, dude," he replied as he released Derek's shirt and tried to fight his way out of the blankets. "I'm not kicking you out of your own bed; I'll sleep downstairs."
"No, you're not. You need the sleep more than I do. You look like a zombie," Derek retorted.
Stiles snorted loudly as he finally stood. "Gee, Derek, tell me how you really feel," he spat, his hands braced on his hips. He stared down at the bed for a moment before looking back up at Derek with a determined look on his face. Derek was well acquainted with that look; it was a worrying look. There was a 50-50 chance about whether the look was good news or bad news, but whatever it was, he knew wouldn't be getting out of it. "You've got a pretty big bed, Derek," he commented lightly. "It's like what? A king size?"
Derek raised an eyebrow, "Not happening."
"It's more than big enough for two people," Stiles continued, ignoring him. "Especially since I'm as big as a pack of Twizzlers right now."
"I'm not sharing the bed with you," he growled lightly.
Stiles gave him a flat look, "Then I guess we're both gonna sleep downstairs cause I'm not taking your bed from you. Your bed can just stay empty all night."
"Why are you like this?" Derek groaned, raising his eyes to the ceiling as if the answer might be written there.
"It's a gift," he answered with a shrug. "Now are you gonna get in bed or am I gonna entertain your downstairs with the endless amount of trivia I've got stored in my head? I can go on for hours, trust me. I'm sure I can stay up talking instead of sleeping."
Derek huffed, turning on the lamp on his nightstand. "Get in so I can turn off the lights," he grumbled. "And I'm leaving the lamp on so I can read."
"Fine by me," Stiles answered easily as he climbed back into bed and settled into the blankets. "I'm sure your mountain of broodiness will block out enough of the light so I can sleep."
He swatted Stiles's head lightly, smirking at his yelp, before turning off the light. By the time he arranged his pillows against the headboard and climbed into bed, Stiles was much closer than Derek recalled him being, his brown eyes watching him steadily across the few inches that separated them.
"Here," Stiles murmured as Derek finally settled on the bed, tossing one side of the blankets over Derek's legs and torso. "Don't say I'm a blanket hog."
Derek ducked his head as a smile formed on his lips, turning to grab his book on the night stand. "Wouldn't dream of it. As long as you don't try to push me off the bed," he retorted, adjusting the blanket to his satisfaction.
"I uh...I wanna apologize right now for the nightmares I'll probably have," Stiles said in a small voice, his eyes averted. "I mean there's like a 96% chance I wake up screaming and the other 4% chance is that I'm too exhausted to dream, which happens occasionally and it's been a really long day so maybe it'll happen tonight but uh. I mean if I wake you up or bother you, I'll just go back to sleep on the couch or something. No one wants to deal with that. I don't want to deal with that."
"Stiles," Derek said gently, waiting for his eyes to meet his before continuing. "You don't have to apologize for your nightmares. I'm sure everyone has them. I still have them. It's okay."
Stiles stared up at him, relief slowly filling his expression as he nodded. "Thanks man," he said softly.
Derek nodded in response as he opened his book, trying not to be overly aware of how Stiles scooted closer to him. His face was aligned with Derek's thigh, his warm breaths filtering through the material of Derek's shorts. His wolf whined in impatience, wanting to curl up around Stiles, to scent the man and protect them as they slept. He brutally shoved those feelings aside, forcing his attention to his book. He was adult enough to admit that he had feelings for Stiles, more than just friends feelings. But he also knew now was not the time for Stiles to have any romantic entanglements. If he didn't take the time to find himself again and heal, he didn't know if Stiles would ever truly recover. Derek was sure his feelings for Stiles weren't going anywhere; he had no issue waiting for him to be ready.
"What are you reading?" Stiles asked curiously, peering up at the book's white cover.
He flipped the book shut, showing him the cover. "Ordinary people by Judith Guest."
He snorted softly, "Our lives are so nuts that you have to read about ordinary people to know they actually exist. Is it any good?"
Derek nodded as he opened the book again. "Yeah, I had to read it for a lit class in college," he replied. "I still pick it up and read it once in a while."
"You went to college?" Stiles exclaimed, pushing himself onto his elbows. "When?"
"Back in New York," he explained. "Laura made me get my GED online when we moved. Then she pushed me to take college classes so I'd get out of the apartment and interact with the world. Her words, not mine. Never got to finish my degree though."
Stiles shook his head as he plopped back on the bed, yawning. "Just when I think I've got you all figured out, you surprise me again, Derek Hale."
"Could say the same thing about you," he replied, watching as Stiles blinked sleepily at him.
"Me? I'm an open book; I never shut up."
Derek hummed in disagreement. "You don't shut up, but there's a lot of times where you're not saying anything much. Or you're talking but not about yourself."
He groaned softly, rubbing his hands across his face. "I'm too tired to deal with you playing therapist to me. Too many new sides of Derek Hale for a tired Stiles to handle," he replied, his words muffled by his hands.
Derek rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. "Go to sleep, Stiles. We can talk therapy in the morning when you're coherent."
Stiles peeked up at him through his fingers. "Have you been to therapy?" he asked curiously.
He nodded, trying not to be offended by the shocked look on Stiles's face. It helped that the shock was rapidly replaced by something that looked suspiciously like pride.
"Nope, too much information," Stiles declared, rolling onto his side so his back pressed against Derek's leg. "I'm going to bed. Need to be well rested to handle all of this."
"I've been telling you to do that for the past ten minutes," Derek replied without heat, his hand unconsciously reaching to stroke Stiles's hair. His hand froze as he realized what he was doing, but his retreat was halted by Stiles pressing back against him more firmly, a small pleased noise coming from him. "Good night, Stiles," he murmured, his hand continuing its stroking as he turned back to his book.
"Night, Der," he mumbled sleepily, his eyes closing. "Sweet dreams."
Derek looked down at Stiles again, listening to his breathing even out into sleep, his heartbeat slowing from its normal jackrabbit pace to something calm, something soothed. This was only a small step toward recovery for Stiles, but it was a hopeful one. Something they could hold onto. "Sweet dreams, Stiles."
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