Stiles stilinski was not an idiot. Regardless of what Scott may have told you…

He knew perfectly well what taking too many Adderall would do to him, how long he would be awake, (it was going on three days), how hard the crash would be when he came down, and worst of all, the glares he would get from each and every member of the pack when they realized he did it. Again.

Now because of the fact that he knew all of this, and still took three of the little orange pills, well that might make you think that you have a good reason to think that he is in fact, and idiot.

But just wait it out a minute.

I swear, he had a good reason.

It was December the 4th, and for you, and me, and Scott, and Allison, and pretty much everyone else in the world… it was a normal day. There was no big to do, it was getting closer to Christmas though, and it might even snow… if the freak weather changes happened to hit California. But for the most part, it was just a day.

For stiles, it was the opposite.

It was the day he dreaded above all others. It was the worst day in all of history, it was the day, scrawled on his mother's tombstone.

It was one of the three days a year that stiles went completely off radar, that he completely freaked out, and wouldn't leave his room, and let out every single feeling that he might have been feeling every other day of the year.

It also started the nightmares.

Now let me again reiterate, that stiles wasn't an idiot.

He knew that he couldn't just, stay awake for the rest of his life and that at some point he would have to face the nightmares that were so eerily close to memories that it was… it was just so hard to tell anymore.

But you see, his theory was, if he stayed up for as long as he possibly could… then he would crash so hard he wouldn't be able to dream.

Well, it was nice in theory anyway.

But it was disproved when stiles passed out in his room amongst the red bull cans and piles of werewolf research he had started to tackle in an attempt of distracting him about what day had just passed.

And when stiles woke up, stomach twisted in a knot, breath shallow, sweat clinging to his skin, and head swimming, well he knew that plan was pretty much out the window.

"Scott said you didn't have panic attacks anymore."

And stiles almost wet his pants, on top of struggling to keep his breath because really? Who thinks it's a good idea to sneak up on someone having a panic attack and scare them. NOT A GOOD IDEA!

When he finally got his breathing under control that was about what he said.

"Are you trying to induce one or something. Cause I'm sorry to say I can only have one at a time. So next time let's not scare stiles while he is already panicking all right sour wolf?"

He said, not glancing over his shoulder, he knew Derek could hear him well enough. And he couldn't be bothered to remove his arms from their position tight around his legs.

"Scott said…"

"I know what Scott said. Scott doesn't know alright? And he isn't going to know. Ever. Got it?" he asked trying his best to sound threatening but his voice was still wavering as he replayed the images he had just dreamed about in his head.

"Why are you here?" he asked, somewhere between angry and confused. Because come on, someone broke into his room… and walked in on him having a panic attack. It wasn't something he was really proud of you know? Losing his shit so completely that even his own body wouldn't back him anymore. It was definitely a low point for him.

So it kind of made sense that he you know, wanted to know why the fuck Derek had decided his time, of all the times, like ever, (though he did always have the absolute worst freaking sense of timing ever!) to show up In his bedroom.

"We can talk about it in the morning."

And alright, that voice was a hell of a lot closer than stiles remembered it being and it causes him to turn around, and in case you aren't aware, when stiles is sitting on his butt, his face reaches a very awkward part of Derek's anatomy when he accidentally turns around.

And stiles were more than aware of it.

And then stiles were lying on his back, groaning because he may not have been an idiot but he was really bad at scooting backwards gracefully.

And Derek was laughing at him.

"Great, the one time you laugh…" stiles said, laughing a bit him before he was lifted off the ground and into Derek's arms.

Which was REALLY awkward.

Like really awkward because he is not a girl and does not like to be carried bridal style thank you very much! Not that all girls do or anything… just … he really didn't like it okay?

"Alright sour wolf, unless you intend to drive me to Vegas and marry me right now. You don't have the right to carry me like this. So PUT ME DOWN!" he protested, flailing himself about.

Which when you think about it is pretty useless when you are a human, not a very strong one at that, being held by a werewolf. Actually scratch that, not just a werewolf a freaking alpha werewolf. Which was just not cool.

At all.

And stiles was going to be very vocal about that in, about… three seconds.

Fortunately for, Derek, and well the entire neighborhood for that matter, Derek dropped him onto his bed.

"Thanks" he muttered sarcastically, burrowing himself into his blankets and staring up at Derek. Who wasn't leaving, or moving, or anything.

"scoot." He growled.

And wait… what…

That was definitely new because scoot implied he wanted to, you know… get into stiles' bed. With stiles there!

And not to maim him… at least he didn't think so… like he was… 94% sure it wasn't just to maim him.

So he scooted over.

And then Derek was in his bed. Curled up against his back, arms wrapped possessively around him and stiles was kind of confused.

Well more than kind of.

He was pretty sure he was radiating "confused" off of him in waves.

"I… uh… not that I'm complaining or anything, but… why?" he mumbled.

Because he wasn't complaining.

Really? Who the hell in their right mind would complain about Derek hale being in their freaking bed and clutching them like a teddy bear.

Like have you seen the guy, he is sex on legs… and a welcome distraction from everything that… well everything in general actually.

"Just go to sleep stiles."

And stiles would have argued, except… he was really tired.

And he was pretty sure Derek was a freaking space heater or something because he was warm, and comfortable and probably the best pillow ever invented and stiles couldn't think of a better way to sleep.

"goo-" he yawned flipping over to face Derek and smiling. "goodnight" he muttered leaning up to press a kiss to Derek's lips.

And maybe if he wasn't so tired, or if Derek hadn't just willingly climbed into his bed, or if he hadn't just walked in on stiles having a panic attack, he wouldn't have done it.

But truth was, Derek had seen stiles at his worst.

And really, the worst that could happen now… was Derek would leave.

Because they were pack, and like it or not Derek was going to see him. And eventually he would forget about the stupid sleepy kiss stiles forced on him.

But fortunately for stiles.

It wasn't really an issue.

And Derek might have even smiled.

"Go to sleep stiles." Derek prompted, tightening his grip on the teen's stomach. "We can talk in the morning."