Chapter Text
Stiles wakes up feeling groggy, which is no surprise really, he deserves it. His head is thick and heavy and dehydrated, his legs aching and his arm... that needs sorting.
His hand automatically reaches for the gash across his face to check the rest of the damage. He can feel it’s noticeably healed and it barely stings to his touch. If only Derek could heal his broken arm with a few strokes of his tongue.. He gulps. Nope. Don’t think about that!
He yawns and tries to stretch out like a starfish and wake himself up properly, but of course he hasn't left himself enough room. With a yelp he rolls straight off the bed onto Isaac who breaks his fall, saving agony from his arm no doubt. A very startled Isaac jumps awake, claws shooting into action he’s wolfed up already.
"It's me it's me! Dude Isaac! Stiles! No threat!" Stiles jabber’s in panic.
Isaac has his jaw clamped around the quilt when he stops. He drops it, stuffy floating to the ground around him.
"Stiles? What the hell!" he stares, spitting white cotton from his mouth.
Isaac stands up, shaking Stiles off him. Apparently his lady friend had left in the night, and her brother by the looks of things. Weird.
He stretches, sensible; he's stood up, and takes a moment to acclimatize. He looks around in confusion for a minute and Stiles laughs because poor old Isaac had obviously woken up thinking he was at home! His eyes dart from left to right before springing open, his jaw dropping in unison. He looks from topless Stiles on the floor to sleeping Derek on the bed and back again.
"Wha-... you.. I mean.. Both of-"
Stiles for once is speechless. He open and closes his mouth like a fish trying to think of a reasonable explanation for why he’d shared a bed with their Alpha last night but his mind was blank. He couldn’t even think of how to explain the truth, not that he was inclined to want to.
"It's rude to stare" both their heads snap round. Derek’s eyes are shut but apparently he’s not asleep.
Queue Isaac disappearing quickly. Once he’s gone Derek opens his eyes and sits up slowly.
“Dude, you look rough” Stiles observes, not really meaning to voice his thoughts out loud but by now we all know his mind and mouth have completely separated from his brain and he’s in no control over his thoughts, feelings, emotions or opinions.
Derek scowls, but doesn’t disagree. “Ugh, I feel.. my head” He lies back down dramatically.
“Uh-uh big guy, it’s gone midday, we were meant to check out… fifteen minutes ago” Stiles checks his watch and yawns again. He finds his duffel bag and shrugs on a grey tshirt. “I better round up the others, we should get going in a minute”
“Not. Gonna. Happen”
“Got. To. Happen”
Sure enough ten minutes later the owner of the site shows up. To say he’s angry upon finding noticeably more people than paid for in the cabin would be an understatement. Put it this way: they won’t be welcomed back. In fact Stiles is under the impression that at this very moment their names are being jotted down in a little black book and their photos stabled next to the phone with distinct instruction not to allow back..
It’s another twenty minutes before everyone is awake and rounded up and much to Stiles amusement Derek is suffering with the worst hangover out of the lot, despite definitely not being the drunkest.
“Don’t worry, I’ll drive!” Scott beams, hooking the Camaro’s keys off the wall and spinning them around his finger as they leave the cabin.
“No!”
“Derekkkkk”
“No.”
“Please”
Derek looks through squinty bloodshot eyes from Scott to Stiles to Allison who are all shaking their heads. He grits his teeth.
“Come on! You owe me! Like, big time” and to everyone’s surprise, Derek agrees. Maybe he’s still drunk? He says it’s to keep the peace but Stiles suspects the big bad wolf isn’t used to drinking like a teenager and the repercussions that follow in the am.
"You need a.." Derek motions like he's going to help Stiles into the car, which Stiles thinks is ridiculous because yes he's probably broken his arm but if you knew Stiles at all you could well assume it wasn't the first time he'd broken a bone and he wasn’t going to lay down and die over it. Ignorance is bliss. He’s sure he can go about normal life.
He straightens indignantly, sticking his nose in the air and marches to the Camaro, dipping into the back seat and shuffling along, reaching across himself to shut the door. He will not be the damsel in distress. It’s kind of a thing for him.
"Alright buddy?" Scott jumps in and smiles at him in the rear view mirror. He's just happy because he finally gets to drive Derek's Chevy. Heck, he’s probably happy to be driving a car rather than a bike!
Stiles smiles weakly. "Yeah, all good".
Next Derek clambers in the other side, folding almost to fit into the cramped back seats. He looks around with vague interest.
"Never been in the back?" Stiles teases. He gets eyes rolled at him in response.
Lastly Allison opens the passenger door. "See you at the loft.. yeah.. bye!" she waves to Erica.
"Race you!" Is the called response.
They'd got the train up because it had seemed like the quickest way but Erica, Boyd and Isaac had decided to try and run back, through the forests. Stupid competitive wolves.
Allison dipped into the car, laying the map out on her knees she immediately began fiddling with the radio dial.
"Don't you'll- ruin the presets.." Derek sighs as blaring pop music engulfs the car.
Scott starts the engine and they tyre spins out of the car-park, making Derek cringe. Stiles nudges him and tells him to chill but in retrospect that probably just made it worse.
Scott and Allison make easy conversation in the front the whole way out onto the main road. Allison's map reading skills apparently surpass Stiles by quite some way. Go figure.. He likes to think its just because Scott doesn't shout at her the way Derek had him.
Stiles is so tired it’s physically painful he can't manoeuvre himself into a comfortable position. He keeps trying to rest his head on the door but the doors his bad arm side and every time they go over a speed bump or crater in the road its agony.
He tries another position, angling himself diagonally. Nope. Maybe he can rest his head on the seatbelt… Derek's head whips round to glare at him.
"Will you quit fidgeting!" He growls.
"I can't get comfortable!"
Derek sighs and they both turn back, sitting forwards awkwardly. Stiles glances sideways at the Alpha, then shuffles slightly towards him. Unless...
"What are you doing?" The older man sounds irritated but it goes ignored.
"Just.." And once he's close enough he leans down and carefully, with baited breath, rests his head in the cavity of Derek's shoulder. Derek freezes beneath him and Stiles waits for him to move abruptly or make some kind of threat on Stiles life... but he doesn't. He shuffles awkwardly and leans back against the car seat. Stiles waits a moment before daring to adjust himself one last time but Derek lets him and yes, he actually comfortable. More so than he would have been leaning against the car door thanks to Derek's body warmth, the gentle rise and fall of his shoulder only serving to sooth him further.
Shortly after Derek finds himself drifting off, Stiles body doing similar calming things to him, the slow steady beat of his heart like a metronome, hypnotizing him. He doesn't even want to relax but he can't help it.
Scott does a double take fifteen minutes later when he checks the rear-view mirror and sees their scary Alpha with his head lolled back and eyes shut snoozing. He doesn't think he's ever even seen Derek sleeping!
What was more was the way Stiles had his head rested on his shoulder, his face buried into his neck, as if it was just totally normal and if it had been two humans it perhaps could have been construed as casual, but Derek has his neck bared, something he rarely does, and Scott knows that means something. As a werewolf letting someone rest their face at your neck while you slept.. It wet agains their natural instinct.
Back at the warehouse it's obvious no ones in the mood. It was a close call but Erica, Boyd and Isaac had managed to beat them back, however they we're now exhausted.
Derek looks like he wants to snap at them but refrains because he's tired too. They all are. He sighs, raking a hand through his hair, pacing the room. The others are lounged about waiting to be dismissed.
"I think.. we've solved the problem for now.. but this one might be back to bite us... Anyway yeah, you can all go"
First Scott an Allison leave.
“I’ll chat to my mum, she can see your arm tomorrow. I’ll text you?” Scott asks, giving him a careful one armed hug.
“Thanks dude” Stiles smiles. Even Allison hugs him.
“Get some rest” she says with sympathy and affection in her smile, the warmth spreading to her eyes.
“Yeah I will” he blushes hugging her back.
Stiles is wedged in the middle of the settee. He can feel himself falling asleep again already, even though it’s hardly two in the afternoon. He can’t be bothered to stand, to move, just yet.
Erica and Boyd leave fifteen minutes later, still somehow full of energy, chasing each other round, all smiles, as if nothing had happened. Maybe it was their way of dealing. Maybe it was love.
Then there’s just the three of them and Stiles knows he should get moving, but just as he psyches himself up to move Isaac sighs.
“Right.. I’m gonna…go shower or something…” he looks between them and shudders dramatically shaking his head and muttering about third wheels or something. So Stiles relaxes back into the couch.
It’s silent for a moment. “Erm, are you okay?”
Stiles eyes snap open. Had he just been asleep? This is not okay, right, he has to get home. “Yeah, just tired” he sighs, rubbing his eyes. Is he even gonna be safe to drive? He forces himself up off the couch, his knees creak in protest.
“.. you can.. stay here if you want. For a bit. Y’know. I’m gonna tidy up and do some work.. if you want.. you can sleep in my bed..” Derek chokes out the sentence as if he’s trying to speak a foreign language, as if it’s so difficult to say. He doesn’t think it’s meant to have that affect but Stiles doesn’t feel like he’s really given him a chance to accept.
“No, it’s really okay” he laughs, hitting Derek playfully on the back. He goes to walk past but Derek catches his wrist, circling his fingers round it and turning him back to face him.
“Sorry. I mean, it’s there if you want it.”
Stiles can’t look away from his eyes, he’s entranced. “Thanks” he mumbles slowly.
Derek reaches up, his fingertips ghosting the bare skin below the sleeve of Stiles tshirt. His hand moves across his shoulder, across his collar bone then to his neck. Stiles breath catches in his throat. His eyes drop down to Dereks lips, full and pink and only inches from his face. He thinks about it then, allows himself to imagine kissing Derek, a thought he’s banished for months, but he can’t deny it now.
He swallows. Derek must.. feel this.
But with a rush of cold air Derek snaps his hand back and looks away.
“A..alright, well, your choice” he shrugs and saunters back into the lounge. Stiles doesn’t move straight away. He physically can’t, because it’s done now. All his walls, his carefully built walls. They’ve all come down now. He feels like sinking to his knees and cry because oh my god he’s never wanted anything more than to kiss Derek Hale, except maybe to want to not want to, if that makes sense.
But Derek just did this. Shared a bed with him. Spooned him. Bared his neck. Licked his wounds. Then pretended it was nothing. Nothing was going on between them.
Stiles was well and truly screwed.