Title: give me a place to be
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: G
Length: ~600 words
Notes: Thank you to data785 and dogeared for the beta and general wonderfulness.
Summary: Derek has done this before, but never with Stiles. It's something new.




give me a place to be

“Here, just --” Stiles’s hand slides over Derek’s hip, and his leg nudges behind Derek’s leg, shifting it forward. “Just like that.” Stiles presses a kiss just behind Derek’s ear, and his breath is warm against Derek’s skin as he says, low, “Relax. If you don’t relax you’re only going to tense up and then you’ll hurt, and it’s supposed to feel good. Breathe, Derek.”

Derek exhales, his body shifting back against Stiles’s chest. It feels good.

“See?” Derek doesn’t have to see him to know Stiles is grinning smugly.

“This isn’t my first time,” he says. It should be obvious that it’s not, but he feels the need to tell Stiles all the same.

“Well, you’re acting like it is,” Stiles answers, slipping his hand underneath the bottom hem of Derek’s shirt and resting his palm flat on his stomach. “I think it’s been so long since you’ve done this that I’m just going to have to show you how it’s done. And done right.”

“What makes you such an expert?” Derek moves as if he’s going to turn around, but Stiles’s hand holds him in place.

“I’m a red-blooded American male, it’s practically encoded into my DNA.” Stiles’s nose is cool where it presses against Derek’s neck. “And as my dad could probably tell you in an answer that would be eye-rolling and sigh-filled--

“I am awesome at naps.”

Derek’s laugh is sudden, probably sounds more like a bark, and makes his whole body twitch against Stiles’s.

“I think I should probably be upset that you just laughed at my claim--which is true by the way--but seeing as how a Derek laugh is even more rare than seeing a pixie out of season, I’m going to let that slide.”

Stiles doesn’t stop him this time when Derek turns to face him. And as soon as Derek nods a “yes” to Stiles’s “all settled?” Stiles is re-tangling their legs and sliding his arm around Derek’s waist. Whether that’s to keep Derek close or to keep him from sneaking away when Stiles falls asleep, Derek’s not sure. One thing he is sure of is that, for a mere human with no manifested supernatural ability, Derek is always surprised at the speed of Stiles's movements.

“I’m not tired,” he says, letting his arm drape over Stiles’s shoulder and back, the tips of his fingers scratching the scruff at the nape of Stiles’s neck.

“You don’t have to be. The desire to sleep is not a nap prerequisite.” Stiles traces patterns at the curve of Derek’s back, slow and lazy.

Derek's first instinct is to argue with Stiles’s logic, but instead he focuses on his touch, on the crease in Stiles’s cheek from his smile, and before he knows it, he's blinking his eyes open again. Stiles’s eyes are half-shut, and his touch is just an erratic twitch against Derek’s back, and he has no idea how much time has passed.

“See?” Stiles says, exhaling more than talking, the corner of his mouth lifting into a tug of a smile. “Naps just kind of happen.”

Derek knows that’s not exactly how it happened. He remembers... something. He'd said something and that had led to Stiles’s insistence that naps were a lost art, and his disbelief that Derek knew how to sleep for fun.

Derek wants to point out that he's currently proving that theory wrong, but his words and thoughts are growing more difficult to grab onto as his eyes drift closed again.

Stiles is warm, and Derek feels, of all things, safe, and okay, so maybe he did learn something new, after all.