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When Stiles was little, his favorite place in the whole world was his mom's lap. Even when he was too big to fit and his mom was so skinny that her hipbones dug into his side, he never felt safer than when he was wrapped up in her warmth.
When she died, Stiles started taking issue with the cold. He couldn't stand it. Cold meant white rooms and floors smelling of antiseptic. Cold meant sharp needles and beeping hospital instruments. Cold meant a glass of amber liquid in his father's hand. Cold was life without Mom.
After a while, he started wearing layers. He wore jackets over hoodies over t-shirts but it was everywhere he went. Cold cold cold. When it got really bad, he started building pillow forts. He'd pile them up around him and try to burrow into the warmth that just wasn't there. He practically buried himself with blankets but it was never enough.
He never stopped building the forts. Sometimes, Scott would come over. People say that Scott is dense but to his credit, he never questioned the fort. He just grabbed his backpack and climbed into the fort to sit with Stiles. They never talked about it but he's pretty sure that Scott knew what was going on. Anyway, Stiles was grateful to have someone with him. It made things less cold. Just not by much.
Then the whole werewolf thing happened and everything changed. He learned to deal with the physical cold through misty forests and swimming pools and late night excursions. And then the other cold, the one inside him, began to thaw.
He was lying in a fort right now, just like the ones he used to make, with stacks of pillows and blankets strewn all over the place. Except for once, it provided him the warmth that he wanted. The body behind Stiles shifted and curled around him. Stiles reached his hand backward to tangle in soft curls but it was caught on the way and brought to a pair of lips instead.
"What're you thinking about?" Isaac mumbled softly into Stiles' wrist, his breath heating and skittering across Stiles' skin.
"Being warm." Stiles replied with a small smile. He pulled his wrist away from Isaac so that he could turn to face him. Isaac smiled at him when he did, huge and honest. How was Stiles not supposed to smile even bigger in response to that? The werewolf made a pleased sound and snuggled closer to Stiles, burying his face into Stiles' neck.
"I like being warm too" Isaac said tightening his arms around Stiles' middle.
Stiles laughed and ran his fingers through Isaac's hair like he wanted to earlier. His eyes started to go heavy. He felt safe again. He felt safe and loved and whole, all thanks to the boy in his arms. Right before he fell asleep, Stiles heard Isaac murmur something that sent a jolt straight to his heart, which he knew the other teen could hear.
" 'm gonna keep you warm, okay Stiles?"
"I know, Isaac" Stiles replied, a little breathless and a lot in love. "I know."
He pressed a kiss to Isaac's forehead and whispered, "I'll keep you warm too" before finally giving in to the call of sleep.