“I can’t sleep, can I sleep here?” Sterek
“I can’t sleep, can I sleep here?”
Derek really had to stop being surprised by people showing up at his loft at all hours. He’d made sure that his pack knew that his doors were always open. Apparently they’d all taken it to heart and they’d all taken it literally.
But still, Stiles shuffling his way into the loft at 2:30 in the morning with his pillow tucked under his arm was a new one.
“I can’t sleep,” Stiles said by way of greeting. “Can I sleep here?”
“Uh,” was Derek’s very articulate response. “Sure?”
Stiles made a beeline straight to the couch. “Awesome.”
Derek closed the loft door and followed him at a slower pace. “Are you…having nightmares again?”
Stiles looked up from where he was getting comfortable on the couch. “What? No. I’m voluntarily sexiling myself. Scott and Kira are, uh, the opposite of quiet. Which is even worse when they’re trying to be quiet.”
Derek stared at him. “It’s two-thirty in the morning.”
“I know.”
“Why are they having sex at two-thirty in the morning?”
Stiles shrugged. “I don’t have a clue, dude. Werewolf-kitsune stamina thing? Bad decision making skills? Scott’s just that lucky?”
“It’s not even a weekend,” Derek said.
“Believe me, I know,” Stiles said. “Hence the reason I am here, because maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to get more than three hours of sleep before I have to be up for work.”
Stiles was a better person than Derek was. Derek would’ve thrown Scott out of the damn apartment. “Well, feel free to crash here. My couch is your couch.”
“Thanks, dude.” Stiles yawned and flopped back on the couch, burying his face in his pillow. “This might actually be more comfortable than my bed.”
“Definitely quieter at this point, apparently,” Derek said.
Stiles huffed a laugh into his pillow and then lifted his head. “You asked if I was having nightmares.”
Derek stiffened and debated how to answer. Stiles had had nightmares, although they were much less frequent now, and Derek knew what it was like to be unable to sleep from that.
Stiles grinned. “Were you worried about me, big guy?”
Derek sighed and crossed his arms. “Well, I’m not now.”
Stiles dropped his head back to his pillow. “I appreciate that. I worry about you, too, you know.”
“I know,” Derek said quietly.
He and Stiles had gravitated toward each other for a variety of reasons. Originally it hadn’t been by choice; Derek had been trying to keep Scott from getting killed and Stiles, with the same goal, had jumped into the supernatural world with both feet. But over the years, that had changed. Stiles was the first person Derek went to when he needed help with any supernatural research or planning, and just for…fun. When he wanted someone to share dinner with or go to a movie or just hang out. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, he’d become Stiles’s go-to person for the same things.
Derek wasn’t sure what it meant. Or rather, he had some idea of what it meant, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed.
“Thanks again for letting me crash here, Derek,” Stiles said.
Derek nodded. “Any time,” he said, and meant it.
It felt like they were both on the cusp of something, but edging around the periphery of it right now. That was fine with him. He’d rushed into too many things in his life, and regretted most of them.
This…whatever this was with Stiles, it was worth waiting for.