Stiles

When Stiles only managed to enjoy his body for one day and was back to Derek's the next one, he was annoyed but not really surprised. Unlike Derek, who claimed to have gone straight to bed, Stiles actually did squeeze in some research time (once he finished molesting Derek's body, that is). He found their wrist symbol in the book they had purchased and, supposedly, it represented a Misery spell.

"A what?" Derek asked the next day when Stiles stopped by to exchange their phones back.

"The curse of Misery," Stiles repeated.

Derek snorted. "They sure knew who to pick to make me miserable."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, once again wondering what exactly made him fall so desperately in love with such a douchebag. "You and me both," he said evenly. "Except, that's not how the Misery spell works. According to the book, the spell is supposed to make its target miserable every day for a certain amount of time. It's not supposed to do the Freaky Friday shit."

"The mark is gone," Derek pointed out, baring his wrist to show him.

Stiles knew that because it was the first thing he checked when he woke up in his own body. "True. But we still don't know why it happened in the first place," he argued.

"Does it matter?"

"It should. You wanna move on, pretending that this thing never happened?"

"Feel free to get therapy, if you need," Derek sneered. "The only thing that matters to me is that I don't have to see your stupid face in the mirror anymore."

That was yesterday. Now this "stupid face" was glaring at him, as if it was his fault they switched again.

Stiles crossed his arms on the chest feeling defensive. "I'm gonna take the high road and refrain from saying 'I told you so'."

"Much appreciated," Derek deadpanned.

Stiles wanted to say something spiteful but decided to be an adult and hold it in. "So what now?" he asked, looking around Derek's loft in search of a sudden inspiration.

"You are the one with the magic book, you tell me."

Stiles resisted the urge to sigh. Derek, clearly, didn't feel like following his example and still behaved like a sulky child.

"It didn't say much, I found it on the list of symbols on the back cover." Stiles showed him the list with exactly 2 sentences of description next to the symbol. "I think we should tell others."

"No."

"Why not? You think they won't believe us?"

Stiles conveniently left out the fact that he already nearly told Scott yesterday. He would have, if his friend wasn't in the middle of girl-drama, barely listening to anything he said. Scott had this huge thing with Allison, and then they broke up and he started dating Kira and now Allison was back and there was clearly still something there… Anyway, with Scott acting like a self-absorbed confused potato half the time, Stiles decided to table this conversation for another day.

Derek shook his head. "No point in getting anyone involved, till we know more. They won't be able to help anyway."

"Deaton could." After all, he was a druid. Even if he didn't know what happened to them, he might know somebody who did.

Derek considered it for a second and then nodded in agreement. "Let's go."

"Wait, can I eat first?

Derek pulled a face and grumbled something unintelligible.

xxx

Derek

Flipping the steaks on the pan, Derek battled the feeling of deja vu. Once again they were switched, once again he found Stiles in bed with an erection (though this time, it was morning wood Derek pretended not to notice when he woke him up), and once again Stiles was grating on his nerves, impatiently drumming his fingers against the freshly replaced table as if Derek was his personal cook.

"Could have at least salted it," Stiles commented when Derek set the plate in front of him.

If Derek didn't know better, he would have thought Stiles had trouble with reading social cues. But Derek did know better - he had read an entire thread on 'fail-proof ways to get a spanking'. "One more remark, and the steaks are flying to the garbage." He slammed the saltshaker on the table and backed it up with an incinerating glare, hoping to nip that attitude in the bud.

"Sheesh. Someone's got up on the wrong side of the bed," Stiles muttered under his breath.

Wrong side. Wrong bed. Wrong body.

"Shut up and eat."

"Stop barking at me, I'm not your dog!"

Sure, but you'd love to be my puppy, Derek thought sarcastically. Ugh. Those fantasies were the last thing he needed on his mind right now.

"It's not my fault that this is happening, so stop being so pissy and taking it out on me!"

Stiles did have a point. Derek might have been more curt than usual this morning, but after everything he read in that journal, one could hardly blame him. Besides, the worse he treated Stiles, the easier it should be for Stiles to get over him, so in his mind, it was all perfectly justified.

He leaned against the table to tower over the little shit. "I'm not pissy, I'm just really not in the mood."

"I.e. Pissy." Stiles got up, meeting his glare head on. "And you are especially mad cause you are human and you can't make me do shit."

Derek never liked being challenged. "You think?" he said silkily and then commanded, "Sit."

The look on Stiles's face as his butt was suddenly planted to a chair was priceless. "What the...?" He gaped at Derek completely bewildered. "How… how did you know this would happen?"

"I didn't. But I was in charge of the wolf residing in that body for the past 23 years." Derek knew that by now his wolf was conditioned to obey him and he did subdue him several times the other day. Never in such a blatant manner though.

Stiles still looked confused. "So… you gave him PTSD or what?"

"No, he is a part of me."

"But now he is a part of me, so why the hell is he obeying you?"

I guess because deep down you'd like to as well. Of course Derek couldn't say that. "Perhaps you are just more submissive." Damn, that was NOT better. "In the pack sense," he added quickly. Still not helping. "Now be a good boy and eat your food."

Red alert! Abort!

In his head, it sounded nothing but sarcastic, but if the pink tint on Stiles's cheeks was anything to go by, Derek will soon be reading an exciting reimagination of this in his diary. Ok, fine, he might have dipped into the lingo a bit. It managed to shut Stiles up, so Derek's conscience was clear.

xxx

Stiles

It took Deaton one look at them to know that something was wrong. Stiles was preparing arguments to make their story credible and none of that was necessary, because apparently, they acted so out of character, Deaton was ready to believe anything they said.

Unfortunately, he had never heard of anything like this. He promised to look into it though and that was better than nothing. Not knowing what else to do, Stiles and Derek returned to the loft and spent the better part of the day on obscure forums about witchcraft.

For once, they didn't argue or bicker, only breaking the comfortable silence to share their findings and exchange ideas. Stiles even got a rare smile out of Derek when he found a possible location for the witch coven. Not that it was a big lead but at this point, they were happy for anything.

They decided to stick together till they changed back to see exactly when and how it happened. So far it always happened in their sleep, so there was a chance that they wouldn't change at all unless they were asleep. Either way, they had to test all the possibilities. Stiles texted his dad that he will be late. Since it was Saturday, he didn't expect it to raise any suspicion.

At some point, Derek left him to make dinner and the lovely smell coming from the kitchen corner soon summoned Stiles to the table. This time it was chicken breasts with something green on the side. Stiles never knew Derek could cook. Or maybe it was the werewolf nose and taste buds that somehow made everything so delicious. Well, except the green stuff that Stiles left untouched. He didn't claw his way to the top of the food chain to eat vegetables.

Derek didn't share the sentiment. "Eat the greens," he said, giving Stiles a pointed look.

Stiles nearly scrunched his nose but managed to reign it in. "No, thank you." Unfortunately, his politeness was lost on Derek.

"Oh, my bad. You must have mistaken it for a request. Eat."

Stiles' hands obeyed, stabbing the little cabbage ball (or whatever that thing was called) with his fork before his brain fully computed. He grimaced, forcefully putting his hand down before it reached his mouth. "I don't like them."

"I don't care what you like," Derek replied. "This is my body you are using and you will have a balanced diet."

"Wolves are carnivores." Stiles could feel his inner wolf's fervent agreement on the matter, as well as his reluctance to eat anything that wasn't running at some point in life.

"Wolves are, but you are a werewolf. There is still a human in the mix."

"And that human right now is me and I don't like brussels sprouts." Stiles sounded whiny even to his own ears, but it's been quite a while since anyone told him what to eat. His dad was even worse when it came to eating habits.

"This is not a negotiation. Eat."

Stiles felt the pitiful whine of the beast inside of him. Derek exerted control over his wolf even from Stiles's body and the need to obey affected Stiles by proxy, which he found to be very unfair (but also kinda hot?).

He sighed and took a bite of the hated veggie, which by the way was not half as bad as he expected, but he was not going to admit that to Derek on principle. "You definitely gave your wolf PTSD," he grumbled instead, ignoring the smug look on Derek's face.

"He just knows better than to argue with me."

Stiles took a hint.

xxx

Derek

"I'm tired."

The complaint barely registered, flying in one ear and out the other. It was the only way one could keep sanity around teenagers. Derek didn't dignify it with an answer and kept washing the dishes, passing them over to Stiles to dry.

His lack of response failed to discourage Stiles though. And frankly, it was foolhardy to get his hopes up. By now Derek knew that the only way to effectively shut him up, was to gag him. And dammit, the little shit might enjoy even that.

"I don't want to spend an entire evening at the computer doing pointless research. It's Saturday. We should do something."

Derek ran out of dishes and had no choice but to acknowledge him. "And what do you propose we should do?"

"I don't know. Watch a movie or something."

"Watch a movie? This is not a date, Stilinski! How is a movie gonna solve our situation?"

Stiles pouted. Derek hated seeing this expression on his own face, it looked ridiculous. It also made him realize what an insensitive ass he was. God, he wished he never read that stupid journal. At least he wouldn't feel like this every time he snapped at this lovestruck idiot. It was like kicking a puppy.

"Staring blankly at google for another couple of hours won't solve it either but if you'd rather do that, by all means. I'm done." With that, Stiles stomped over to the couch and put on the TV. And once again, Derek had to endure the inner battle between guilt and irritation, the former taking the lead early on and overwhelming him within a few seconds.

He sighed, lingering in the kitchen to wipe and put away the rest of the dishes, then blindly picked a few DVDs and dropped them on the coffee table, taking a seat next to Stiles. "Well, what do you wanna watch?"

If Stiles was sulking before, he sure made a remarkable recovery, nearly bouncing on the sofa as he snatched the DVDs. Then his eyebrows went all the way up. "Wow. Didn't take you for an Attenborough fan."

"What?" Derek was confused for a second, then realized that he must have grabbed the documentaries that Isaac and Erica kept talking about. "It's not mine. Just pick whatever," he waved towards the bookshelf with movies, "I don't care."

"No, this is pretty good actually. Great even. Did you know that the music was done by Zimmer? You will love it."

Derek shrugged. "If you say so."

Stiles put it on and hopped back on the couch, hugging his knees, because sitting like a grown-up was apparently too much to ask. So Derek didn't waste his breath and focused on the gorgeous scenery, beautiful music, and warm soothing voice of the narrator.

He had to admit that he was pretty tired himself, and this was not the worst way to relax. The first episode flew by and the second one began, but neither of them made a move to stop it.

"This could help, you know?" Stiles said as the intro music filled the silence. "I mean, in theory, it could. All those body swap movies revolve around getting into each other's shoes and reaching an understanding. Not that I don't enjoy fighting 24/7, but perhaps we are simply meant to reach common ground."

Derek seriously doubted it. This was not a movie. This was just some asshole's fucked-up agenda and it was never romantic or morally justifiable. Not in his experience. Besides, if this was just about reaching an understanding, then Derek already got there by reading Stiles's diary. A lot of his behavior started making sense when put into perspective. But Derek wasn't going to admit that and he didn't like fighting 24/7 either.

"Perhaps," he said softly.

Somewhere towards the end of the episode, Stiles's head started falling. He made a few futile attempts to keep himself upright but soon ended up on Derek's shoulder anyway.

Derek let him.

In fact, he even took a blanket and covered him, and Stiles slumped all the way down, nesting comfortably on his thighs. It was harmless. Derek was not indulging him, he was simply taking care of his own body and his poor tired wolf. Nothing more.

He glanced at the clock, noting that it was a bit after 11 pm. He was getting sleepy as well, but he needed to stay awake till they switched to know exactly when and how it happened.

Stiles's head was growing heavier with every minute and now more than ever Derek wished they weren't switched. Not only so that his leg could get a break but also so that his wolf could once again experience the calmness of watching over the peaceful sleep of a pack member. Keeping distance from the pack was hard on him, and the longer it kept going the harder it was for Derek to keep persuading himself of its necessity. After all, staying away obviously did nothing to protect Stiles.

The boy might have been the definition of a trouble magnet, but Derek was almost positive that this curse was targeted at him and Stiles was simply collateral damage. And he didn't deserve it. He deserved to live a normal life without all the supernatural bullshit in it. He should be focusing on school and dating and exploring all those kinks he kept writing about… Not with Derek of course, Derek was not boyfriend material. Especially not for someone like Stiles. But unlike Stiles who considered his virgin status to be a tragedy, Derek wasn't worried for him. He was sure that once Stiles got over his infatuation, he would have no trouble finding himself a decent partner. Stiles was smart and kind and considerate and now that he filled out that body a bit more and wasn't wearing that stupid buzz cut, he was quite easy on the eyes too and-

No. He was still a kid. And an insufferable one at that. And Derek refused to find him attractive. Or think about what-ifs. Or notice how much better he would have fitted on his lap. Or over it.

Oh, for fucks sake! This was worse than the Misery curse! He really didn't need to be imagining all the kinky shit Stiles inadvertently planted in his mind!

Derek shook his head as if it could somehow help him get rid of the inappropriate thoughts and focused on TV. Thankfully, Birds of Paradise and their ridiculous mating dances were a pretty good distraction.

xxx

Stiles

Stiles woke up from the severe dryness in his mouth and the killer pain in his neck. His left leg was completely numb which he suspected had something to do with the weight he felt there. Groaning, he palmed his neck, trying to rub some of the soreness out, and then stared blankly at Derek's head in his lap.

It took him a moment to figure out how he got there and then warmth started spreading over his chest. This was probably the nicest thing Derek ever did for him (saving his ass notwithstanding, cause Stiles saved Derek's just as many times, if not more). It's just that Derek was always such a dick, no one ever expected anything nice from him. But it was little things like this that made getting over him increasingly hard. Despite the tough exterior and grumpy demeanor, Derek always looked out for his pack, prioritizing their comfort and safety over his own. And even though Stiles was now sore all over because of it, he still found it beyond sweet.

He also realized that they failed to stay awake. The clock showed 2:30 AM, the documentary still playing on the TV. Stiles took a moment to memorize Derek's peaceful sleeping frame and then gently shook him awake. He really needed to restore the blood flow, even though he dreaded the pins and needles that would come shortly after. Being human sucked.

"Derek? Hey, wake up. We overslept."

Derek jerked himself into awareness, his eyes alert looking for danger while the rest of him still sleepy and disoriented. He looked at Stiles and then at the blanket covering him, and his cheeks pinked as if this small gesture was something to be embarrassed about. Stiles massaged his thigh, trying to bring it back to life, and groaned at the prickly sensation that followed. He could complain about how sore he was or thank Derek for being considerate and letting him sleep, but he opted for mercy and didn't address it at all.

Derek checked the time and cursed.

"Yeah," Stiles nodded with a sheepish smile, "I don't even remember falling asleep. You?"

"Last time I checked, it was just before twelve."

"Well, at least we know that it happens somewhere between midnight and two-thirty. That's better than nothing."

Derek shook his head. "I should have stayed awake."

"We were both pretty tired," Stiles said placatingly. Derek was always quick to blame himself, regardless of whether it was his fault or not. As an Alpha, he assumed responsibility for everything. "I'm sure we will get another chance… and if not, all the better." Stiles shrugged and handed over Derek's phone, accepting his own in return. "I guess I'll head home. See you tomorrow?"

Derek didn't look at him, and Stiles suddenly remembered how miserable and lonely the wolf made him feel when Derek left the other day. And he didn't want Derek to feel this way. "Or I could stay. I mean, it's pretty late, right? Won't make much of a-"

"Go home, Stiles." Derek didn't sound irritated nor domineering. Just tired. "Your dad will be worried if you don't show up."

"Right. Dad. You are right. Uhm…" Stiles searched for words to say something nice because this was probably the nicest evening he had ever spent with Derek. Yes, their standard was quite low, given that most of their interactions were filled with near-death experiences or neverending bickering, so even something this mundane felt special and intimate. Stiles inhaled… but came up with nothing. "Bye."

Derek only nodded at him and walked to his bedroom without waiting for Stiles to leave.

xxx

The next day, Stiles finally had time to catch up with his school stuff and hang out with Scott for a bit, though his friend spent most of the time talking about his girl drama again. Stiles was used to playing the second fiddle by now, but it didn't mean he wouldn't appreciate a bit more interest from Scott's side. Stiles had drama too. He was queer, he was kinky, he was in love with someone who barely tolerated him, and he was still a virgin at the age of 18! If that was not dramatic, Stiles didn't know what was. Oh and the body-swapping thing. Of course.

Deaton called in the early afternoon, saying he wanted to try a few things. The bizarre rituals he performed, making Stiles and Derek stand in big chalk-drawn symbols on the floor, surrounded by herbs and candles and quiet incantations in Latin, would make a normal person roll eyes and call him a charlatan, but after all the supernatural shit of the recent years, this felt oddly normal.

Unfortunately, none of the spell-identifying nor caster-locating rituals seemed to work, so Stiles wasn't holding his breath on the curse-canceling one either. The success or failure of that one would only be known somewhere between midnight and two-thirty.

"I don't understand why it doesn't work," Deaton said, rubbing his forehead with a puzzled expression. Two hours of hand waving, herb chewing, ash throwing, pose keeping and chanting, and they were no closer to figuring out the what, the who, and the why. "Let me see the symbol one more time."

"It's not there." Derek showed him an empty wrist. "It's only there when we are switched and even then it's barely visible unless you hit the direct sunlight."

"Can you draw it?"

"I took a few pictures," Stiles said, taking out his phone and showing the photos to the druid.

Deaton zoomed in and then misclicked, accidentally swiping to the next picture that made all three of them wish he didn't. It was one of Derek's half-naked selfies Stiles took the first night and forgot to hide in a separate folder. The awkwardness filled the air, even though Stiles was not in a werewolf's body to smell it. Deaton immediately swiped back and pretended that he didn't see anything, focusing on the wrist symbol, while Stiles fervently tried to ignore the murderous look Derek was sending him.

He had a sinking feeling that he will be hearing about this later.

xxx

Derek

If Derek had a nickel for every time he wished death upon Stiles Stilinski…

No, seriously, as if it wasn't enough that he could smell cum on him when he first woke up back in his own body. At the time, he was just happy it was over and decided to give Stiles the benefit of the doubt, but now it was obvious that while Derek strived to treat Stiles's body with as much respect as possible, the little shit had no such reservations.

At least Stiles had the decency to blush, though the nervous embarrassment radiating from him did nothing to appease Derek's urge to throttle him. Before he could do that, Deaton pulled them back for another ritual and Derek decided to table that discussion for when they had a bit more privacy for it. After all, if he were to murder him, he didn't need any witnesses.

Stiles's heartbeat calmed down for the next half an hour while they were fruitlessly trying to determine the curse that befell them, but as soon as Deaton sighed saying he had nothing else up his sleeve, it jumped back up to a timorous drumroll.

As soon as they were out the door, Stiles patted Derek on the back, saying something about needing to check on his dad, but if he thought he was just gonna take a powder and avoid confrontation, he had another thing coming.

"Not so fast," Derek growled, catching him by the back of his collar and taking sadistic pleasure at the audible gulp it induced in his target. "We have some unresolved issues to address."

Stiles frowned as if he had no idea what Derek was talking about. "What issues?" he asked innocently. He was a bad actor. His body language and his racing heartbeat reminded Derek of those guilty dogs videos where they sit next to the torn cushions, covered in feathers, and pretend it's not them.

"Give me your phone."

"Why?"

Derek didn't bother elaborating, letting his wolf do the talking. Stiles stared at the slowly elongating claws and fangs, wincing at the silent threat. He took out his phone, unlocked it, and handed it over. Derek kept holding him with one hand and his grip was getting tighter and tighter as he kept listing through the incriminating pictures.

"Derek? Calm down. Think happy thoughts."

A low rumble reverberated somewhere deep in his throat, as he showed Stiles a particularly spicy photo of an open zipper and a clear hardon visible through the fabric.

"That's artistic."

The next one of Derek with a dreamy expression touching his nipple.

"Sexy."

Another of Derek suggestively sucking on his finger.

"Yeah, that's my favorite too."

A picture of Derek fully nude from the back looking over his shoulder to the camera.

"Come on, even you have to admit you look really good here."

The next one had Derek holding a belt and smacking it against his palm…

The temptation to do just that was strong. Derek's palms were itching, while the imagery of Stiles's porn history and spanking stories filled his mind. It was like a brain worm, the one he couldn't seem to get rid of, as if he got infected with Stiles's obsession. Derek tried to keep his imagination at bay, but Stiles's constant provoking was not exactly helping it. It would be so easy to just bend the little shit over and give his ass the beatdown it deserved. Hell, it might even do them both some good.

Stiles must have sensed that Derek was losing his patience with each consecutive photo because he actually tried to break free from his grip and when he failed, his heartbeat went into full-blown arrhythmia.

"It was just a bit of fun!" he whined, squirming. He really looked like a puppy in trouble.

"Oh, I'll show you fun, you little shit," Derek growled, rolling up his sleeves as his body went into the partial shift.

"Whoa! Derek! Human here," Stiles pointed at himself, waving his hands comically. "Control yourself!"

As much as Derek enjoyed breaking Stiles's cocky know-it-all demeanor, he didn't really want Stiles to fear him. He shifted back and changed his posture to something less threatening, crossing his arms on the chest. "Trust me, Stiles, this is me controlling myself. If I were to let myself lose you wouldn't be-" he bit the next words just in time and shook his head, taking a deep breath instead.

"I wouldn't what?"

You wouldn't be sitting comfortably anytime soon.

Was he really just about to threaten Stiles with a spanking? And not just threaten, he was actually considering it! What the hell was wrong with him?! He really needed to get some space because spending this much time with Stilinski was clearly harming his common sense. Without another word, Derek turned around and went to his car, leaving confused Stiles behind.

"I wouldn't what, Derek?!" Stiles called after him, but Derek just drove away.

xxx

Stiles

'If I were to let myself lose you wouldn't be-'

Breathing? Living? Walking this Earth? It didn't really matter how exactly Derek would end him, the fact remained that he wanted Stiles out of his life. Sure, he threatened Stiles with death and bodily harm on a regular basis, but he never really meant it before. This time he did. He was so done with Stiles.

And could anyone blame him? What Stiles did could be considered a sexual violation or abuse. He was all jokes and giggles about it, but if the situation was reversed how would he feel about Derek doing stuff to his body?

Uhm, actually… Ok, that was a bad comparison. Stiles would be more than fine with it. But Stiles was in love with Derek, while Derek could barely stand him. And now Stiles crossed the line and didn't even apologize for it. No wonder Derek hated him. And Stiles couldn't even give him the space he so obviously needed because they had to stay awake tonight and also figure out what to do tomorrow in case the curse was still not broken. They couldn't keep avoiding their commitments just because they were in the wrong bodies. Derek had to go to school for Stiles and Stiles had to go to work for Derek.

Stiles stayed at home till late evening, not wanting to bother Derek with his presence any more than necessary, but at half-past eleven he sneaked out and headed to Derek's loft. He stayed in the car for a bit, wondering if he should text Derek first to give him the opportunity to get his killing urges under control, or just ring the doorbell. Then he remembered that Derek was a werewolf and was already aware of his presence.

When he heard footsteps approaching the door, he braced himself for the anger but Derek looked oddly calm and collected.

"Hi."

"Hi, come in." Derek stepped aside and let Stiles in. "I was about to come get you."

"Yeah well, I wasn't sure if I would be welcomed here…" Stiles chewed on his bottom lip, feeling awkward. Then his eyes fell on the ball of yarn on the floor by the couch. "What's that?"

Derek followed his gaze, then picked up the ball and threw it in the trash. "Coffee, tea?" His voice was perfectly neutral and he didn't seem angry or irritated.

"Coffee. Need to stay awake this time." Stiles offered Derek a careful smile and almost got one in return. Ok, not a smile per se but Derek wasn't scowling, and that in itself was a win. Stiles waited for Derek to get them both a cup, before speaking. "Uhm, uh… do you think it will happen again tonight?"

That was not what he meant to say. He wanted to apologize, but the courage left him at the last second. Derek only nodded in reply.

"Yeah. Me too. Deaton didn't seem too sure about himself either." Stiles rubbed his sweaty palms. "Anyway, if it does again, I think we should just cover for each other. You at school, me at your work." He saw Derek's frown and waved his hands anticipating the argument. "No, you won't have to do anything. Just be there and take notes. If anyone wants to quiz you, say you are unprepared and will answer the next time."

Derek took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the temperature, or the taste, or maybe just their shitty situation, but Stiles could tell he was going to give in. "Fine," he said. "But you won't be going to my work."

"Why not? You can go every second day and keep your job? Your boss didn't seem particularly happy about it last time I-"

"I'll deal with it."

Derek's tone was firm and brooked no argument, so Stiles kept his mouth shut and just stared into his cup instead. He didn't come to fight with Derek and piss him off even further. Things were already pretty bad as it was.

The uncomfortable silence fell between them and lasted for a good minute before Stiles blurted, "I'm sorry." He took out his phone and opened the gallery showing it to Derek. "I deleted them. And I promise I won't be taking any others. It was in bad taste." When Derek didn't say anything, Stiles felt even worse. "Look, I know you hate me and would prefer I was 6 feet under, and I'm sorry that we are now stuck together and you have to put up with me. I promise I'm not trying to fuck up your life or anything. We just have to bear with it, till we figure this out."

Derek studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable but his eyes intense, making Stiles want to squirm. Then he took another sip of his coffee. "I don't hate you."

"You don't?" Out of all the things Stiles said, this was not the one he expected Derek to contest.

Derek rolled his eyes as if it was something obvious. "Yes, you are loud and annoying and a general pain in the ass…" he shrugged, "but you are pack."

Stiles stared at him surprised. He never knew Derek considered him part of the pack and not just Scott's irritating and unnecessary +1. Even though he called Stiles 'loud and annoying pain in the ass', his words wrapped around him like a comforting fluffy blanket, warming Stiles from the inside.

The rest of the evening went in a similar spirit as the last one. They watched the documentary, talked about the environmental message it showcased, and kept a careful watch on the clock, hoping that they wouldn't be switching tonight.

And at exactly fifteen minutes past midnight… they did.