Disclaimer: See initial chapter.

Prompt 2: Cuddle Somewhere

One day, Stiles was going to write a book about this, and call it something like: How to Handle Your Very Own Personal Werewolf, or Got Werewolf?, or maybe just, Dating Werewolves for Dummies.

In it, there would be an entire chapter devoted to how to get your manly wolf to cuddle with you, because, well, Stiles would like to cuddle every now and again. It would be titled something like: "When Your Wolf Won't Cuddle," or "A Step-by-Step Guide on How to Cuddle with Your Wolf," or something far less wordy. Something more to the point. Something that conveyed action, and ultimate success. Something...succinct.

It wasn't too much to ask, that Derek cuddle with him, and it wasn't a girly thing, or a human-only thing, or a strictly Stiles thing. It was an everybody likes to do it kind of thing, and a, people (and wolves) need physical contact when they're dating, kind of thing. And not the kind of physical contact of the lip-locking variety, or the greedy hand-groping variety, or the being shoved up against the wall, make-out kind of variety.

No, what Stiles was looking for was a simple, and, okay, maybe a little 'girly' sounding, cuddle session. Just sitting together, arms wrapped around shoulders, maybe a head resting on someone's chest, or in someone's lap. Just simple, straight up, cuddling, and not to keep someone warm, or as a prelude to making out, or something more. Just...cuddling.

First, though, Stiles had to figure out how to make that happen with his own wolf who was currently seated way on the other side of the couch, about as far away from him as he could possibly get without being in the other room. Or, well, on the other side of the planet. Heck, if Derek was really aiming for distance, there was always the moon.

Stiles sighed and stretched, draped an arm over the back of the couch, and Derek raised an eyebrow, and after a moment, turned his attention back to the TV movie that had been playing for the past hour. Stiles hadn't been watching it. He'd been too busy watching Derek, willing the wolf to inch over to his side of the couch.

There was a bowl of popcorn sitting on the table, courtesy of his father who'd left for work just after the movie had started. Neither of them had made a move toward it. No doubt it was feeling neglected, rejected. Much as Stiles was currently feeling.

He sighed, this time a little more loudly, and stealthily inched over toward Derek's end of the couch. Or, maybe not so stealthily, because Derek moved too, in the opposite direction. If things continued on in this fashion, Derek's hip and the arm of the couch would become one, and, by the end of the night, he'd have to use a crowbar to separate them.

Stiles slumped on the couch cushion, and grabbed a handful of popcorn, stuffed it into his mouth, and tuned into what was happening on the TV. Someone was crying, and, well, the cryer was being cuddled.

Stiles frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, pointedly ignored Derek who shifted in his seat. He didn't even want to know if the wolf had moved even further (though it was soon going to be impossible) away from him. And, no, he wasn't jealous of the openly weeping character on the TV set. Not at all.

Free Reader Tip: Don't try to sneak up on your wolf. He'll be waiting for it, and will run in the opposite direction. Turns out, werewolves are extremely skittish.

Stiles leaned forward, snagged another handful of popcorn and chewed it loudly. He rested a chin on his fist and rolled his eyes at the dramatic scene unfolding on the TV. Who'd picked this movie anyway? Probably his father. He snorted and shook his head.

He reached for the popcorn, and his hand accidentally brushed against Derek's, sending tingles from the tips of his fingers all the way through his shoulder. He shivered, and Derek pulled back, as though he'd been electrocuted, rather than pleasantly shocked.

Another loss on the, "How to Get Your Werewolf to Cuddle," front. A rather major loss from where Stiles was sitting, directly in front of the bowl of formerly neglected popcorn, but nowhere closer to Derek.

If he was at the North Pole, and Derek, the South, they'd be closer - at least on an emotionally relevant scale.

Free Reader Tip #2: Beware, accidental touch may cause your werewolf to withdraw, and make cuddling darn near impossible.

Frustrated didn't even begin to cover how Stiles felt at the moment, and he was clueless as to what was wrong, because, before they were dating, Derek couldn't seem to keep his hands off of him, and now, he couldn't seem to put enough space between them. As surreptitiously as he could, Stiles sniffed his armpit. He didn't smell off. Or at least he didn't think he smelled off, maybe he smelled differently to Derek, though.

Sighing, Stiles tucked his legs underneath himself, rested his hand on his chin, and tried to pay attention to what was happening on the TV, rather than what wasn't happening on the couch. He'd try to match Derek's cold indifference with an indifference of his own. Maybe that would work, or at least ease some of the hurt that had settled itself in the vicinity of his chest, close to his heart.

Reaching absentmindedly for more popcorn, frowning as the main character flung herself into the arms of another man, Stiles let out another sigh, louder than the rest. He envisioned flinging himself at Derek, and snorted, because he knew that Derek would arch an eyebrow in response and probably check him for brain damage, or maybe just not catch him, or drop him, or...

"What's wrong?" Derek's voice startled him and Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin.

He turned and blinked at Derek. "What's wrong?"

He threw up his hands, and accidentally knocked the bowl of popcorn on the floor. He'd have to clean that up before his dad got home. Not that his dad was overly fastidious or anything, but he did like to keep the mice out of their living room.

"Oh, I don't know, how about the fact that my boyfriend is sitting all the way over in Siberia while I'm over here, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean? Or, maybe the fact that we are clearly watching a terrible movie and aren't even commenting on the really bad acting, or, well, anything?"

How about the fact that I've been trying to get you to cuddle with me, and you are thwarting my every move? remained unsaid, but definitely hung in the air like a black cloud over the both of them.

Derek looked like he'd been struck, and Stiles almost took pity on him. Almost. But the man had nearly folded himself into the couch, as though he was afraid to touch Stiles, or maybe the thought of touching Stiles disgusted him.

"Do I smell?" Stiles sniffed his armpit again, and Derek looked at him as though he'd lost his mind.

" Are you planning on breaking up with me?" Stiles asked, voice a little shaky.

He ran a hand through his hair, and held his breath, because that had to be the answer, and he'd been stupidly trying to come up with ways to sneak over to Derek's side of the couch for some cuddle-time.

Derek frowned at him and shook his head, mouthed, what, and seemed to struggle to find his voice, but he did.

"No, I...your dad..."

Stiles laughed, and pressed his fingers to his eyes before turning to look at Derek. "Don't tell me my dad threatened you?"

Derek shrugged, refused to meet Stiles' eyes. "He might've mentioned a shotgun, and that he was the Sheriff, and knew how to..."

"Get away with murder," Stiles finished, and he pushed into Derek's space, ignoring his attempt to scoot away. The man had nowhere else to scoot to, unless he wanted to sit on the floor.

"Something along those lines," Derek admitted, finally meeting Stiles' eyes, showing just how much he wanted to actually participate in the cuddling that Stiles wanted, maybe a little more.

"You big goof," Stiles said, hitting Derek's arm playfully, and eliciting a growl. "My dad's not going to shoot you for cuddling."

"Cuddling?" Derek said the word like he'd never even heard it before, and Stiles took pity on him, settled in beside him and wrapped an arm around him, rested his head on the wolf's chest.

"Yeah, cuddling, you know, where two people who like each other actually sit next to each other on the couch and..."

"Cuddle," Derek repeated, frowning.

The word sounded foreign the way he said it, and Stiles kind of liked it. Made him feel like he was one of the cool jocks, dating the foreign exchange student. Except, he had it better, he was dating Derek Hale, werewolf, former star basketball player. Yeah, he was moving up in the world, alright.

Stiles snuggled against Derek's chest, looked up at him through the fringe of his eyelashes, and smiled when Derek's shoulders relaxed, and the arm that he'd kept stiffly by his side came to rest on Stiles' back.

"Cuddle," he said with much more confidence. "Sure, we can...cuddle."

Stiles pressed a kiss to Derek's stomach, and turned to watch the rest of the movie that, apparently, neither of them had been watching. Derek relaxed and sunk back a little in his seat, tugging so that Stiles was a little more on his lap, and he could massage Stiles' scalp.

Reader Tip #3: Just be straightforward with your wolf. They're not good with the art of subtlety, and you could die a very old man, or woman, waiting for them to get a clue.

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