Tyler Schrage Fanpage

Derek stared at her for a long second before Erica was moving away. Pushing himself out of bed and plodding cautiously to the doorway of his room, he glanced out, watching her duck back into the room that she and Boyd shared. And then he heard the faintest sound of what could only be a periodic thumping.

Derek blinked a few more times. There was a faint scent in the air; one Derek recognized in a second. 

Clenching his jaw he moved over to the loft door.

The moment he opened it, Stiles yelped and spilled inside. The boy must have been leaning against the door, lying flat on his back now and blinking up at Derek a few times. His face was a little red, his eyes were a little bleary, and the smell of alcohol wafted off him in waves. Derek promptly scowled.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Sourwolf!”

“Stiles.”  

Derek didn’t expect to start his night with a teenager sprawled out on his loft floor, but he supposed he really should have. He should’ve expected it from Stiles from the moment Erica was pounding on his door. Derek glared and Stiles only grinned brighter.

“How are you this fine evening?”

“It’s after midnight, Stiles.”

The boy’s eyes rounded and he stared up at Derek for a moment. Then the smile was back, amber eyes lighting up, and he pushed himself to his feet, swaying for a moment before running a hand through his hair. “Really? I had no idea!”

“You’re drunk Stiles.”

“Nuh-uh.”

Derek gave him a flat look. Stiles beamed.

“Well, see,” he said, stumbling into the loft. Derek took a step back, watching him warily, and Stiles threw his hands up, gesturing around at nothing. “I was out with Scott and Allison, and they were both doing  stuff. Meanwhile, I was not doing stuff. Nor did I have anyone to do stuff with! And I’m not a third wheel, Derek, you know that. So, I left and meant to go home.”

“You’re not home.”

“I know,” Stiles said, eyes dancing. “Instead I came here!”

Derek looked at him for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, inhaling deep, before drawing back with a clench of his jaw. “You’re really drunk.”

“Oh come on, Sourwolf. Use that super-sniffer once in a while! Clearly, I’m perfectly sober.”

“No, Stiles.”

“Meh,” Stiles said, waving a hand through the air. “I’m feeling fine.”

Derek really hoped so, because he was tossing Stiles right back out if the boy got sick all over his floor. But he just watched as Stiles stumbled further into the loft and made a beeline for the couch, dropping down onto it with a heavy sigh. Then shaking his head, Derek moved toward the kitchen.

Stiles’s eyes were half-closed and he still looked out of it when Derek came back with a glass of water and bottle of pills. He pushed the water into Stiles’s hand and set the bottle on the side-table, pointing to them.

“Take two tomorrow morning. You’re going to have a headache.”

Stiles glanced up at him with a soft smile. Derek hated the feeling in his stomach at that, folding his arms over his chest and ducking his head. 

“I’ll grab some blankets.”

Stiles only waved a hand through the air, lifting the glass to his lips. By the time Derek had left and come back, now holding a pillow and stack of blankets, the glass was empty and Stiles looked tiredly content.

“You’re such a softiewolf, Derek.”

Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles grinned brighter.

“I mean it, dude! I was gonna go home but…” He trailed off, smile slipping from his face, and blinked at nothing for a moment. “My dad’s on a shift and it’s so  quiet. It’s always so quiet.”

Derek felt a knot form in his throat. He tried to ignore it, tossing the blankets into Stiles’s lap and tucking the pillow at the end of the couch. Stiles blinked at him and Derek swallowed hard, gesturing to them. “You can sleep here tonight.”

Once more, Stiles’s face softened. Derek just grunted.

“Don’t throw up on my floor.”

“Ah, there’s the Sourwolf we know and love.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Stiles just rolled his eyes, eyes a little bright again. “Yeah, yeah, sure. You go back to sleep now, big guy, you look like an angry tired teddy bear.”

Derek glared. Stiles laughed out loud.

“See? Like that!”

“Just don’t make a mess,” Derek grumbled, turning away. Stiles’s laughter followed him and he stalked back down the hallway, glancing into Erica and Boyd’s room for a moment. The two betas had gone right back to sleep wrapped around each other. And glancing into Isaac’s, Derek saw the beta probably hadn’t even woken up.

He tried to tell himself the feeling in his stomach wasn’t from having all of his pack in one place, peaceful. But he still paused at his own door and glanced back toward the couch where Stiles was bundled up. One of the boy’s leg was hanging off the couch and his arm was thrown up at an odd angle. He kept shifting and cursing, nearly tumbling off the side each time he tried to get more comfortable.

Derek glared back at his own bed and then sighed, turning back down the hallway. Stiles blinked sleepily as Derek approached.

“Sourpuss?”

“Get up,” Derek said, pulling off his blankets. Stiles looked even more confused. Then he frowned.

“Dude, are you kicking me out?”

“Just get up, Stiles.”

Stiles only groaned, turning his face into the couch. He waved a hand weakly through the air in what Derek thought was denial. “I’m too tired, dude. I can never walk again. I most certainly can’t drive. You’re setting me up for failure, Derek!”

“I’m not kicking you out.”

Stiles turned back to give him a confused look. Derek sighed and then leaned down, picking the boy up. Stiles squeaked, nearly tumbling right back out of his arms, and then he gave Derek a wide-eyed look.

“Oh my god, are you going to kill me?”

“What goes on through your head?”

“Many, many things. But you do realize you’re literally carrying me right now?”

Derek attempted to roll his eyes, but he felt his face grow hot. Moving back down the hall and nudging open his door with his foot, he dropped Stiles unceremoniously down onto the mattress and the boy squeaked again, before looking startled. 

“Okay, so you’re not going to kill me.”

“What, would you rather sleep on the couch?”

Stiles blinked a few times and then grinned, burrowing down deeper into Derek’s bed. His scent smelled happy underneath everything else and Derek tried to convince himself he didn’t feel anything at that, dropping onto the other side of the bed and yanking away the covers. Stiles squawked in indignance and Derek totally didn’t grin a little, turning his back to the boy.

Stiles shuffled around a few times, rolled over, and then sighed. Derek could feel him staring and tried to keep his own eyes closed. Stiles continued to stare. Derek clenched his jaw; he hadn’t signed up for this.

“Derek,” Stiles mumbled, voice bleary with sleep. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Now that’s not what he had expected.

Derek stayed silent and Stiles sighed again, rolling around some more while Derek’s head spun. Because that was the alcohol talking, wasn’t it? A worm. He didn’t understand anything that went on in Stiles’s mind. Still, as Stiles’s breaths started to even out, Derek found himself wide awake.

Would you still— what? 

“Stiles.”

But the boy didn’t answer, heartbeat steady as he slept. Derek rolled over and studied his face, eyes closed and skin pale in the dim light. He looked calmer when he slept and everything about him was quieter. It was almost strange.

Derek looked until he felt like a bit of a creeper, rolling back over again. He didn’t understand Stiles. Not one bit.

If some part of his mind quietly thought that he’d love Stiles no matter what, Derek wasn’t listening to that. Not at all. Not that, not Stiles’s soft breaths a few inches away, not his steady heartbeats in the dark silence. Nothing about that.

And Derek totally didn’t fall asleep to Stiles shifting even closer, snuffing as he pressed up against Derek's back. No, he didn’t.

There was a bundle in his arms when morning came.

- -

Oh my gosh, nonnie, this took me so long to write, I’m so sorry! But it’s always been on the list, my head has just been somewhere else lately. Still, I loved the prompt and I hope I did it justice!