Word: Lambent
...
Stiles woke up with a groan, shielding his eyes from the lambent light that flooded through the open curtains. His head wasn't pounding, which was somewhat of a surprise (not too short of a miracle), considering the amount of alcohol he'd drunk last night.
"Close the blind, it hurts," Derek moaned beside him, burying his head in his pillow.
"How's your first hangover, sour-human?" Stiles asked with a snort, moving to sit up, and whoa, that was a mistake.
His head might not be pounding, but apparently it was swimming and with the room spinning, that was way too much motion for Stiles. He flopped back onto the bed, burrowed his body in against Derek's and bit his bicep playfully, trying to get underneath his arm properly. Derek lifted his arm obligingly, Stiles darted in, and settled under his warmth and weight with a small sigh.
"Seriously, though, you feeling okay?" Stiles murmured against the pillow.
"Mmm. Alcohol's awful. Nothing short of being bashed over the head with a baseball bat should make me feel like this. Even electrocution didn't hurt this bad," Derek whined.
"Now you're just lying. Come on, water, juice, Advil, and a bowl of fried eggs and rice to soak up the rest of the booze. We'll be fine in an hour."
"Too long to wait. Sleep more instead," Derek muttered in return, his arm tightening around Stiles' waist.
"That sounds good too," Stiles agreed, turning his head to press a kiss to Derek's jawline.
Derek was obviously still too hungover to respond with more than a small sigh of content, and Stiles settled down to go back to sleep.
"It's not so bad, is it?" Stiles asked a few moments later, knowing Derek wasn't asleep yet.
"What?"
"Being human," he said, cheeks heated and Stiles isn't even sure why the answer's so important to him, but it is.
Derek lifted his head briefly to look at Stiles, taking in the stubble burn on Stiles' cheek, the marks of the pillow against his forehead, the dots of moles along his cheek, and the hot blush across his face.
"Not bad at all," he murmured, kissing him firmly and then dropping back on to the pillow once more.
Stiles grinned brightly, feeling ridiculously pleased, and closed his eyes to sleep again.
"Stiles?"
"Yeah, Derek?"
"Close the curtain?"
Stiles groaned, but he did as Derek asked, if only for the fact that he'd never sound so pitiful, weak, and human before.
An hour later, Derek sounded anything but pitiful, weak, or human when he roared at the construction workers down the street for using the jackhammer so early in the goddamn morning. Stiles held back his laugh as the workers hurled abuse right back at him, and quickly pulled Derek back in from the window before he got shot by a nail gun.
...
End of word challenge.
Thanks for reading!
