(queerlyalexâ made this beautiful and perfect ficlet for this drawing :3 and Iâm in love. Hope you all like this collab! :D)
âAre you awake?â Stiles asks, whisper barely audible over the soft music playing in the background. Derek drags his thumb over Stilesâ shoulder in affirmation. Itâs a relative sort of awake, mind heavy with fatigue from the mind blowing orgasm Stiles just gave him less than an hour ago. All of his limbs are dense, tempting him to fall asleep before Stiles says anything else.
He doesnât though, mind too trained to listen for Stiles. Stilesâ heart rate and scent, how his breath regulates; the small movements he makes, whether they come easily or are stiff with uncertainty. Derekâs body reacts and responds naturally to Stilesâ, as if Stiles is an extension of him and not a separate, autonomous being.
At the moment, Stilesâ pulse is slow and steady. He smells like Derek and clean sweat, spunk and the underlying scent that Derek will forever associate with home. Heâs warm and lax, sprawled across Derek, exhaling over Derekâs collar, hand twitching on his chest. Their legs are tangled, anchoring Derek to the bed. Derek appreciates it, without it heâd be drifting.
âNo,â Derek answers, after a long moment. Stilesâ answer laugh rumbles against Derek, through him, vibrating their atoms together with Stilesâ amusement. Derek smirks at the ceiling. Even after years together, he still feels proud of himself every time he makes Stiles laugh. Itâs a personal accomplishment.
âRemember when we first started sleeping together?â Stiles asks, tracing his fingertips over Derekâs chest, swirling patterns through his chest hair; tugging and smoothing it down with a lazy repetition. Derek is used to being used as a baseboard for Stilesâ nervous habits: rhythms tapped out on Derekâs leg instead of Stilesâ, Stiles picking at Derekâs nails instead of his own, dragging his fingers through Derekâs hair over and over and over like he canât help himself.
âWell, I got tired of your mouth being good for nothing more than arguing,â Derek says, in a reminiscent tone. âSo, I shut you up the good old fashioned way.â
âNot the sex,â Stiles says, with an irritated huff, but heâs smiling, Derek can tell by his tone of voice. âInnocent sleeping, sleeping in the same bed together.â
âOf course,â Derek says, because he does remember. It was after they started sleeping together. They just kept falling asleep together. After sex, they would pass out on Stilesâ bed or fall asleep slowly on the couch watching movies. Stiles kept insisting that he never fell asleep like that. Neither of them napped for no reason, but they did it together repeatedly.
They realized quickly that they slept better together. Without Derek, Stiles tended to have violent nightmares that resulted in Derek climbing through his window at 3AM in the morning anyway. It was better if they started and ended the night together.
âI always sleep better with you,â Stiles mumbles, voice wavering in a way that means heâs about to fall asleep. Derek chuckles and strokes his hand through Stilesâ hair, tugging and twisting, thinking of the way it swoops and swirls in the morning when he has bedhead. âNo nightmares, no problem. I always want to sleep with you.â
Derek grins and presses a kiss to the top of Stilesâ head. Stiles makes a pleased noise in response and nuzzles closer, tightening his arms and legs around Derek, clinging to him.
âI always want to sleep with you, too,â Derek whispers, but Stiles is already asleep, lax and comfortable around Derek. It doesnât matter, because Derek will tell him tomorrow when they wake up and start their day with soft kisses, gentle reminders that theyâre never letting each other go.













