#minhod

My hair!!!

Stiles still had bad days. Of course he did. They were normal, nothing wrong with them. There would be days when he would just scream and throw things and play music so loud Derek could still hear it ringing in his ears hours after Stiles had turned it off. When it happened, Derek didn't really know what to do. His whole body ached to make it better for Stiles, but really, all he could do was to ignore the worst of the noises and hold Stiles through his tears, past the body-wracking sobs and the shuddering breaths. The first time it had happened, Derek was in the middle of editing his dissertation, three days before the deadline, and he'd just reached over to shut Stiles' laptop, cutting off the music abruptly. That had been his first mistake. Stiles had looked at him, betrayal written all over his face before he had burst into tears and locked himself in the bathroom for hours. His second mistake had been shoving earplugs in the next time it happened. The results were disastrous. Stiles had slammed his laptop shut and left without a goodbye. They didn't talk for two days and Derek felt the uneasiness curl underneath his skin and lodged itself there like a splinter. Nowadays, Derek just watches Stiles' face before deciding whether or not it's safe for him to go over and curl around Stiles, pressing gentle kisses along his jaw and running his fingers up and down Stiles' arm. Sometimes, Derek wonders if Stiles ever begrudges him his speech, and is always ashamed of it afterwards. Stiles is the single most generous person he knows, and wasn't the type of person to feel that way. More often than not, however, Stiles has good days, and he would pull on Derek's arm to get him off his butt and out into the sign, his hands flying every which way and his nimble fingers signing things so quickly that half the time Derek had no clue what he was saying. He'd catch bits of conversation, and reply occasionally but most times he liked watching Stiles. Liked the way the sun on his face made his eyes squint and crinkle at the corners, and how his eyes would sparkle with mischief right before "accidentally" tripping into Derek and pushing him underneath the spray of a sprinkler. Derek liked those days a lot, even if he grumbled and shook his wet hair into Stiles' face, prompting a whole slew of dog jokes, because apparently Stiles refused to believe that Derek wasn't a werewolf, though Derek really didn't want to know where that idea came from. On those days, they would come home, Stiles dragging his feet along in exhaustion, and take a shower together before tumbling down into bed. Orgasms or not, Derek loved this part, when Stiles was soft and plaint, letting Derek rearrange their bodies together, limbs clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle. Sometimes Derek'll sing, mind flicking back to the one time Stiles admitted that the biggest thing he missed about his mother was the way she'd sing him lullabies as he fell asleep. So Derek sings, mouth stumbling over half-forgotten words, humming melodies he remembers from his own childhood, back when his mother could still pull him into her lap, run her hand through his hair and murmur that he was her beautiful little boy, and he was going to grow up to do great things one day. And because Stiles is so... Stiles, of course he picks up on Derek's emotions, and he'll press kisses to the parts of Derek's body he can reach, and rest his fingers gently on Derek's throat, falling asleep to the feeling of the gentle vibrations underneath his fingers as easily as if it was some miracle drug. To Stiles, maybe it is. Derek'll never really know. But he's not complaining.

crying about it tbh