Rating: T
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Chapters: 1 (of 1)
Words: 2,279

Summary: Derek and Stiles have a sort of unspoken deal. Stiles comforts Derek at night, and they both don't talk about it. Stiles lets him do what he needs, but tonight something new happens. Progress and a feeling that makes Stiles feel like Derek's protector. Maybe this deal helps them both.

It's late and Stiles is content in bed, half awake and waiting for sleep to overtake him. He took the right amount of medicine today so he should be able to sleep. He tries shutting his eyes again but it won't take. His eyes move back and forth under his lids, making it nearly impossible to keep them closed comfortably. Maybe it's too quiet. Yes, it's definitely too quiet.

But it's quiet enough for him to hear the soft thump on the edge of his window sill. He can hear the rush of cold wind and the small squeak his window gives as it's being shut. He doesn't say anything but he looks up, his eyes fix on a shadowed figure. He doesn't speak either, only sheds his jacket and shoes, then is welcomed into the warm bed. There just enough room for the both of them. There always is.

Stiles takes him into his arms, one cradling his head and curling around his shoulder, the other going to his hair and running his fingers through it soothingly. His voice is less than a whisper, "Derek."

The older teen's arm finds it's way around Stiles' waist and his cold hand holds his side, fingers under his body to get them warm again. He knows Stiles doesn't mind, knows he's used to it by now. He won't say anything, doesn't trust his voice, so he nuzzles at the delicate skin stretched over the dip of his collarbone, leaves his lips there to linger on the bone. He thinks maybe this could be uncomfortable if this was anyone else. But it's Stiles and he would never go to anyone else, not with this.

Scott would ridicule, talk profusely, just not understand. Jackson would tell someone, brag about it maybe, get clingy on Derek. Lydia was his second option if Stiles turned him down, but he knew it wouldn't be the same. Of course not. There's no substitution for Stiles. He's sure he's lucky as hell that Stiles didn't tell him to get out when he appeared in his room one night, making a little noise for the first time to announce his presence.

Stiles' hand keeps moving through his hair, easing his eyes shut. Being the leader of all these kids while you're still honestly a kid yourself is hard, Stiles understands. Sometimes he'll whisper, a whisper that even Derek could miss, about how it'll be okay. That he's okay, and in the day, when he sees the wolf trying to be strong, fearless leader, he doesn't let it show that Derek has cried on his shoulder. He doesn't let it show, all the things Derek has done. Cried, almost shifted, actually shifted and jumped through his window in his wolf form, just laid, fell asleep - that's one of Stiles' favorites. Derek looks so young when he sleeps - and let his hands drift along Stiles' body. It never strays too far down, though.

It feels good, caring for someone else like this. He sees the good effect it has on Derek. It makes him feel better himself but he doesn't say a thing about it. But Derek has been more… affectionate to him. In little ways that probably no one else has noticed. Being less aggressive, helping him up by the arm if he falls. It truthfully makes his heart race. And Derek knows it.

Stiles thinks Derek's just about to fall asleep and the warmth of his body is making Stiles' hum comfortably with the anticipation of sleep. Then Derek moves. He usually does, but it's his leg that slides up, stretches over both of the younger teen's. The wolf's lips press to his collarbone, drag across it and letting his breath puff along his skin. Stiles' hand slows in his hair but doesn't detach, just holds while Derek skirts his lips up to his neck. He licks at the hollow of his throat slowly, like he's tasting his skin and feeling his pulse.

The quirky teen's heart picks up in beats and a barely there hum of approval falls from Derek's mouth. This hasn't happened before but Stiles isn't objecting to it. He likes Derek, even if he doesn't openly speak of it - okay maybe he's talked with Danny about it… a lot - He tilts his head back and lets the older teen do what he wants, lets his eyes close as he just feels.

Derek leaves kisses up the tendon in his neck, bites gently at his jaw and then licks all the way to his chin. He moves his body, rolls onto his hands and knees on top of him, keeping his own chin against Stiles'. He leans up, rubs their noses together and the kid wets his lips, lets them stay slightly parted. He wants Derek there but he won't ask for it. The wolf hovers his lips over the smaller teen's.

He can see his face and he knows Stiles can't see his own. He truthfully looks wrecked because he hasn't really slept in days, and got his shoulder accidentally ripped from the socket today by Jackson. But Stiles wasn't there today, he was with Danny. Which was fine, until Derek felt like he needed him, needed him close just to make him feel a little better. He needed to feel cared for even if he'd never ever admit it.

The quirky teen's breath is uneven and his heart is drastic in the beat it makes. Derek thinks it's odd that Stiles hasn't opened his eyes, but he realizes that it's trust. He trusts him enough to know he won't do him any harm. His hands don't pull Derek down or even encourage him to, they just… move like they know it's his weak spot, card through the strands and blunt fingernails scrape just a little into the sides. The breath he lets out wavers and he dips down, catching Stiles' mouth.

The kid doesn't gasp like Derek thought he would. He inhales through his nose and his body gives off obvious signs of interest. His fingers dig just a little more into his scalp. The wolf can smell how much he likes it, the pump of adrenaline and sexual attraction. And Stiles just smells… hotter. Warmth just radiates from him even though it's cold outside. It's not something he can explain, but it smells so good. It's like Stiles is the sun.

Stiles tilts his chin up, going with how it feels instead of what it should look like. Movie kisses aren't really real anyway. His breathing sounds like the loudest thing in the room and he should be a little embarrassed but he can't with the pounding realization that Derek's waiting. He's waiting for him to do something more. To let him know it's actually okay. He moves his head a bit and pushes his lips up against Derek's, reacts, tries his best for this still to be the thing he isn't clumsy at. The older teen makes a noise that feels raw in his throat, stripped of any front he's ever put up and finally lets his eyes drift all the way shut. He hones in on feeling, on trusting this beautiful kid and hears a breathy, shuddering moan in return to his.

Derek's hands move and suddenly their chest to chest, and Stiles is just crushing him closer with his arms going around his shoulders. The wolf snakes a hand through and gets one of his arms down, runs his fingers from his shoulder to his wrist. Stiles' other arm goes onto the mattress without Derek needing to prompt it and it gets the same treatment before his hands wrap around the pale wrists. Right there, he feels so delicate to Derek, but not breakable. Never breakable. The older teen's tongue slips out, tests a run along Stiles' bottom lip.

Stiles arches up at it and Derek keeps his hold, lets his tongue enter the smaller teen's mouth and tastes. Mint toothpaste, something like sour-sweet candy. Emotion starts to overpower everything else; nervousness, more warmth, pleasure, want.. and fear. Their tongues swipe and Stiles' heartbeat is like a song for him, too fast and dangerous. He starts to pull up, pull away but Stiles is moving with it, craning his neck up to keep their mouths together. Derek likes it almost too much but parts their lips and the kid lays himself back down, breathes and bites his lip which slides so easily from his teeth with their mixed saliva. Derek's fingers are caressing his face before he even fully realizes it. Stiles' cheeks are hot and he looks so amazing.

But he moves. He gets up and moves back beside him. His first words of the night feel like they're the only thing he'll get to say, "I should go. Thank you, Stiles." It's a whisper and his voice doesn't sound right, too thick and needy - I don't want to go but I don't want to fuck this up - and he starts to stand.

That snaps Stiles back to reality. His eyes fly open and he grabs for Derek's wrist. Luckily he gets him. There's no stuttering over his words, just a quick and breathless excuse, "It's cold outside."

Derek wants so badly to take that, agree, lay back down. But it's not enough, not something he'll let himself have. He tugs gently from Stiles' grip and grabs his jacket. "I'll be fine."

Stiles squeaks when he moves toward the window, holding his shoes in his hands. The younger teen chews on his lip and then finds his reason as Derek's fingertips touch the window, "Me! I-I mean me. It's cold outside and I get cold when it's cold a-and you owe it to me to keep me warm."

Derek internally sighs in relief and - no he did not throw his shoes down in a rush to get back to Stiles - tugs off his jacket. He slides back into bed and Stiles' legs spread for him, one fully parted and the other a bit more up, still room for him to lay beside him. It's giving him the choice to be intimate or nudge his knee out of the way and deny it. He debates for a moment, standing there on his knees, then looks up to Stiles' face. He knows the kid still can't really see him but he's looking at him, for him. His expression was mixed, worry and care. He knows what the fear was before; the fear of him leaving.

Derek leans between his legs and settles himself in. Stiles just about shudders in relief and relaxes his body as the older teen gets comfortable up against him. Head on his chest, full weight on him when Derek lets his legs relax. Stiles thinks it's such a good feeling, the pressure of someone else. The pressure of Derek. The blanket is strewn out next to them and Derek grabs it, hauls it over them and shuts his eyes. He can hear the younger teen's heart starting to regulate in rhythm and hands threaded into his hair again, just the way he likes.

Stiles' lips unturn in an almost smile when Derek's hand dips under his nightshirt, touches along his hip, around his bellybutton and his side. He's buzzing with contentment as Derek counts his ribs slowly, then lets his hand glide back down the curve of his side.

They hear the wind whistle outside, trying to sneak in but not getting any luck. The moon is barely visible from its angle with the window and it's just too cold to be alone tonight. Too cold for could-be lovers to be apart. Too cold to be left to walk home. Too cold for the angels that his mother once said watched over everyone, to protect Derek tonight. Nights like these are when Stiles watches over him instead, protects him instead.

Derek's hands feel along his thighs, grip squeeze slightly then relax, dip under the fabric of his suddenly too-thin boxers. The wolf sighs in content, leans up, sucks a gentle mark into his skin. It's right above the hollow of his throat and it'll be red there when he wakes up in the morning and Stiles likes knowing that, likes the way the other teen's hands just settle on his sides, likes everything right now. His thighs close a little on Derek's waist, feels Derek's hipbones against his shins.

"Goodnight, Stiles." The older teen whispers after he's settled back on his chest. He moves a leg up higher and Stiles' moves as well, foot to the other side of his calf just to have him closer.

"Night, Derek." Gets whispered back, hands filing through his hair so slow, so loving and yeah, it's way too cold outside for them to be alone.

Derek's breathing lulls Stiles to sleep and Stiles thinks, as he drifts out of consciousness, that this will need to happen more, because Derek is just the right amount of noise he needs in his life.