AN I don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters! Just good ol' fluff.

When he woke up, Stiles was wound in and around his limbs with his head in his chest. Derek sighed when he looked at him, trailing his fingers indulgently up and down the pale arm still cinched around his chest. Stiles didn't deserve this. Now, more than ever, Derek wanted to hug him and protect him and make sure the world never hurt him again. He let himself relish in the feeling, promising himself it could never happen again, but the sleepy little smile Stiles gave him threw that out the window.

"Mornin." Derek smiled

"Good morning." Stiles stretched and yawned but just cuddled back into Derek's side when he was finished.

"I think that's the best sleep I've gotten since it happened." Derek had to smile.

"I'm glad." He didn't say it but it was the best sleep he'd had since Kate. He told Stiles he was going to shower, half to get up away from the guilt of the situation and half because he knew he needed it. Stiles nodded and shuffled off of him before curling back into bed. He would probably be asleep again when Derek got back. But Derek didn't mind that idea, he just smiled slightly and headed to the shower.

While he was in there, he took a long time to think about whatever this feeling was. It was... weird. He usually hated the people he was hired to protect-they were rich brats sick of security details who only wanted to get him fired. But Stiles was different, in more ways than one. The longer he stood there in the hot water, the more he remembered about the nightmare. Not the nightmare itself, really, but how it started. He'd been in high school still, still popular and still playing basketball, but Stiles had been there. It hadn't been a big deal and he couldn't really remember much about it-Stiles wasn't a new kid or anything-but they'd been standing out under the bleachers in the gym before practice where he used to meet Kate when they were still in love.

He'd smiled when he saw Stiles duck under the aluminum railing, and he remembered the happiness washing over him. Sliding his hands onto Stiles' waist, wrapping him up and pulling his body against his own, leaning down and... Kissing. They'd kissed. That was why he was so afraid of Kate that night-he'd thought she knew. He'd dream-kissed Stiles. There were implications of that he couldn't ignore, but more than any guilt he felt, he was overcome with an urge to do it in real life. To know what Stiles' soft, constantly rambling lips felt against his own.

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around his waist, moving to the mirror to inspect the recent bruises blossoming over his throat. When, suddenly, he heard Stiles outside in the hall.

"Hey, Der, don't take too long 'cause-" The door opened before he even noticed and Stiles' shocked face when he accidentally stepped into the room was priceless. "I'm so sorry oh my god oh my-" He watched Stiles' cheek flush with embarrassment, amused. He couldn't help noticing the way Stiles' eyes drank in his body, every inch of muscle and scar tissue that his eyes could reach, before slipping lower to the towel and maybe trying to see through it?

"Stiles?" He jumped back, almost out of the room, suddenly coming back to reality, and backed away quickly, mumbling.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean... Hurry up or breakfast will get cold." Stiles disappeared through the doorway but Derek just stared after him. Breakfast? Even if it was just cereal-but cereal couldn't get cold, unless Stiles made his own version of cereal-it would be the first time since he moved out that anyone had made him food. He usually fended for himself and lately had been taking to the habit of cooking for Stiles but never the other way around.

When he went down the stairs, however, his nose was filled with possibly the best smell he had ever smelled. Walking into the kitchen, he saw Stiles standing over a plate covered in tinfoil to keep in the heat, five other feds hounding him to share or at least give them a taste, but he couldn't help but smile when Stiles shooed them away, telling them it was just for Derek and him. When they complained and whined, wanting to know why, Stiles glared.

"Because he's actually keeping me safe, not just punching a time card." When Derek walked in and made himself known, the other agents scurried out of sight as quickly as possible. Stiles smiled in greeting and removed the tinfoil to show a stack of fresh golden pancakes. And they were so fucking good. So good. Heavenly good. Derek hadn't tasted food this good in five star hotels. He moaned in appreciation and Stiles gave a shy little smile.

"They're my mom's recipe, she taught me when I was little." Derek nodder, thanking him with his facial expressions, and ate all of them except for the two Stiles ate. He wondered why Stiles made him food but Stiles just seemed to be in an altogether good mood and it was probably because of how well he slept. Derek couldn't deny that he felt better too. Happy, almost.

So when Stiles begged him to let him outside to take a walk-it was the middle of nowhere, and they'd be covered by the trees anyways-Derek caved relatively quickly. Maybe that was why he fed him, as a bribe. But he agreed even if it was because honestly it had been two months since he got here and he knew Stiles was in federal protection before that so he needed it. He agreed, and smirked when Stiles pulled on an oversized hoodie and tennis shoes immediately. Like a little kid, he wanted to go the second Derek said yes.

Stiles was clumsy. There was no denying that. So he got a lot of minor injuries. And Derek, as bodyguard and protector, always fixed him back up. When Stiles woke up in the middle of the night without Derek beside him, he instantly was worried. He went to investigate only to stop at the top of the stairs. He heard a gun cock. He backed up and looked out the window. There were three black SUVs outside. No one they knew drove black SUVs-feds didn't get paid that much and Derek would have told him if other freelance friends were coming.

The doorbell didn't ring and no voices were heard. After a few beats of silence, Stiles started to creep down the stairs to the landing just enough to see. In the living room, five federal agents were lying dead on the floor. Stiles would have gagged if he hadn't seen it twice before already. What made his stomach churn was seeing Derek standing among them. He didn't like Derek being that close to death, knowing that that could have been Derek if he hadn't been asleep with Stiles. The men were just barely out of sight but Stiles caught flashes of suits and guns every few seconds. They were quietly ordering Derek to keep quiet and to tell them where Stiles was. From the noise Stiles guessed there were at least ten of them and, when Derek looked back at the men with that blank calculating stare, Stiles knew what he was going to do before he did it.

He lunged and Stiles choked back a yelp when the first shot went off. He couldn't see Derek and that made it even worse but he heard the fighting continue and that was a good sign at least because it meant Derek was still alive and fighting back. Until suddenly Derek was thrown across the room against the wall with a sickening thud. Stiles couldn't breathe. He watched Derek get up, obviously in pain, and his body urged him to go out there and protect him even though Derek was far more competent in battle than him and he'd probably only get him hurt more. But as he watched the two last ones (or at least it seems that way) grabbed for Derek and caught one of his arms before Derek snatched one of their guns and dropped them both.

As if on instinct, Derek turned and looked Stiles directly in the eyes. There was a fierce sort of protectiveness in Derek's face and Stiles loved it. But he could tell that wasn't all of them and Derek confirmed that by rushing towards him and grabbing his hand to pull him upstairs. Shouting erupted downstairs and Derek led them out the bedroom window and down one of the trees in the backyard. Stiles lost his grip but before he could even start to scream Derek caught him. A look passed between them with one message I've got you and Stiles nodded.

They made a break for one of the cars and Derek pushes Stiles into the passenger seat before getting into the driver's seat and starting the engine. Immediately, lights went on and a few shots rang out. Derek floored it in reverse and then down the gravel driveway going at least four times faster than the road was meant for. Soon cars were in pursuit but Derek didn't seem to notice. He glanced at Stiles speeding more.

"Are you okay?" Stiles was shaky but nodded.

"Yeah I'm okay, you?" Derek almost seemed surprised and didn't answer.

"Where's your seatbelt?" Stiles clicked it on as soon as he said, muttering yes mom under his breath but without any annoyance. He knew to trust Derek. And the second he did, Derek floored it. Taking corners at sixty and flooring it to ninety on the straight aways. The tails kept up but Derek lost them on the freeway and exited, moving back to small backroads at like thirty five and finally they both seemed to catch their breath.

"You're okay?" Stiles didn't say that that was the second time Derek asked him that, he just nodded and swallowed.

'Yeah, freaked out but alive. Are you okay?" Again, Derek looked surprised.

"Yeah." They drove for hours but Stiles was still too wired to sleep and Derek was driving. Finally, Derek stopped in a tiny town at a motel and told him to stay in the car while he got them a room. A few minutes later Derek came back and led him to room 14. Inside, he dropped the keys and his leather jacket on the table and kicked his shoes off before turning to Stiles. He inspected Stiles to make sure he was, in fact, okay before scrounging for food. There was ketchup in the fridge and a Keurig so they had microwaved ketchup (because really Derek said it was just tomato soup right) and coffee for breakfast. It was only about noon but they were both exhausted so it might as well have been dinner. Stiles was going to head for the bed when he saw Derek wince when he twisted his shoulder to grab something.

"Hey you sure you're okay? You hit that wall pretty hard." Derek squinted in annoyance-at the weakness, not at Stiles-but nodded.

"I'll heal."

"You're sore, though. Let me help." Derek raised an eyebrow at him. "Before my mom died, she had a lot of chronic pain. My dad taught me how to massage it whenever he wasn't home." Derek hesitated but nodded because his shoulder did really hurt like a bitch. He sat in the chair where Stiles motioned and tried to breath. Stiles' hands rested on his shoulders and slowly brushed up to his neck.

"Damn, Der. I can feel it throbbing this must hurt like hell." Derek didn't shrug but stayed quiet. Slowly, Stiles started to press and squeeze the muscles but it just hurt even more.

"I know, trust me, it's worth it." Derek nodded and grimaced until he felt Stiles slip his hands under his shirt. God the skin on skin contact was addictive and he knew it was just because he had starved himself of human contact for so long but it felt damn near electric. He didn't realize the pain was subsiding until his head dropped back against Stiles stomach and his eyes were closed. The harder Stiles worked, it the more relaxed it became until Derek's breathing was coming in short gasps and he'd forgotten where he even was. The feeling of Stiles hands on his skin, taking the pain away, was a godsend. He almost whimpered when Stiles stopped.

"You hurt your back, too, didn't you." It wasn't a question. Normally, Derek was the one calling Stiles out on his bullshit but apparently the roles had reversed. Derek nodded, eyes still closed, because he couldn't really think to be anything but completely honest with Stiles right now.

"Stand up. Come on." He did, surprised to find his legs weak and almost not supporting him completely. He winced again when his back twisted but Stiles just motioned towards the bed.

"Lay down. It's easier if you take your shirt off.. if you want." Derek didn't even catch the small rise in strikes voice at that or the gasp of breath when he did as instructed. Exhausted, he fell into the bed on his stomach and felt the bed dip when Stiles sat beside him. Stiles did the same to his upper and lower back, but it was much more painful and therefore much more blissful when it released. The feeling of Stiles bare hands on his skin just wasn't something he could get over. He loved it.

Suddenly, he remembered where he was and who he was with and he started to get up but two firms palms pressed against his shoulders, pushing him back down onto the bed.

"Relax, Der it's okay." Derek shook his head though.

"No, I'm supposed to be protecting you."

"And you can't do that if you're in severe pain, can you?" What hit Derek more than the reasoning or the logic behind it was the word severe. No one had ever described his pain as severe. With Kate, he was always exaggerating and it was never that bad. In the army, he was always underdiagnosed and undertreated because they thought he was just being a baby. But here was Stiles, having not even heard a word of complaint from him, calling it severe. Giving it importance. He liked that.

"Let me take care of you for a little bit, okay Der?" He nodded. There was nothing else he could do with Stiles' fingers rubbing against the small of his back and the relief weighing down his body. He felt Stiles' fingers pass gently over one of his scars, a deep red one near his waist that was at least seven inches. Rough and tangled flesh where an axe had been embedded in his back.

"Can I…?"

"What? Ask?" He took the silence as a yes. "An axe, from a POW camp in Pakistan." Stiles continued to trace every scar he could find no matter how small but didn't ask about any of them, just traced them. That seemed to be more what he was asking permission for. To touch. And Derek was more than willing, loving the sensation of Stiles fingers on his body. It didn't have to be sexual or mean anything, he just loved the contact. It made him feel so close and connected to Stiles, like they were breathing together and their hearts were beating together.

Derek couldn't hold in a whimper when Stiles ran his hand up his spine and tangled it in his hair. He pulled his hair a little bit-maybe by accident, maybe not-but Derek moaned and couldn't stop himself from arching into it. Slowly, Stiles found every sensitive patch of skin on his body and alternated between them, lightly scratching at his sides, tugging at his hair and massaging under his shoulder blades. When Stiles finally stopped, Derek was almost asleep. He started to protest when Stiles got up, but Stiles smiled at him from across the motel room.

"I'm just locking the door, Der." Derek quieted and watched until Stiles came back and crawled under the covers beside him. Stiles curled into his side-he'd taken his shirt off, apparently, because Derek was suddenly very aware of Stiles' bare skin against his own. It wasn't electric, or like fire under his skin, but it was warm. Not warm like flames or like two bodies sheathed in sweat; warm like hot chocolate, like thick blankets and tight hugs. Warm like home.

He slipped his arm around Stiles' waist, loving the connection of his arm against Stiles' skin, and pulled him in closer against his own body. He expected Stiles to pull away but he just smiled. He closed his eyes when Stiles reached up and cupped his cheek, thumb tracing under his eyes. It was small but something about the innocence of the motion, the obvious comforting intention behind it, that made it amazing. He was asleep the second he had the reassurance of Stiles skin against his.

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