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I.
Derek was the first of the pack to crawl into bed that night, the pack’s first night together in the newly rebuilt Hale House. The entire house smelled of Pack and only a little of fresh wood and varnish and fresh furniture. There were three floors, a wraparound porch, a massive kitchen, a small and a large dining room, an even bigger library, and numerous other rooms and amenities. Each pack member also had a bedroom of their own, with a few other guest bedrooms and bathrooms besides.
Derek’s room was on the second floor, closest to the main staircase, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the forest and the lake out back. He stretched out on his soft, comfortable bed, buried his face in his pillow, and breathed in the smell of clean cotton.
For the first time in a long time, he felt… settled.
There was a soft creak of his bedroom door opening, and Derek’s wolf immediately perked up at the sound of that heartbeat and the familiar scent of sun-ripened raspberries. Derek kept still, kept his breathing calm and even, even as he heard the figure shuffle none-too-silently across the hardwood floor before clambering none-too-gently onto Derek’s bed.
Derek sighed, turning his head to the side to see that boyish face with the big, brown eyes, upturned nose, mole-speckled face, and a wide smile.
Stiles grinned down at him before letting his arms buckle beneath him and landing right on Derek’s other pillow, face just inches away from the werewolf’s. He lifted an arm and let it flop gently across Derek's shoulder.
“Watch it,” Derek mumbled, more into the pillow than to his packmate. With Stiles so close, he couldn’t help taking in a lungful of his scent and listened to his erratic heartbeat.
Stiles scooted closer towards him a bit more.
“Der, you awake?” he whispered.
Derek kept his eyes closed, but he could just about imagine the other male’s big brown eyes staring closely at him.
“No, so go back to your room and go to sleep,” he replied, burying his face deeper into his pillow.
“Deeeer...”
Derek could hear the pout in Stiles’ voice. He sighed.
“Fine. What is it?” He opened one eye.
“We shouldn’t sleep!” Stiles whispered, shaking Derek with the arm around his shoulders. “How can you sleep at a time like this?”
Derek groaned. “Stiles, it’s half past eleven at night. How can you not sleep at a time like this?” He ignored Stiles as the male proceeded to poke his cheek repeatedly.
Stiles’ voice came closer and Derek cracked an eye open to glare at him. Stiles just grinned wider.
“This is our first night together. We shouldn't be sleeping!”
Derek groaned and turned around, presenting his back to Stiles. Behind him, Stiles whined and grabbed his shoulder, trying to get him to turn back around.
“Stiles, we're a pack, not married.”
Stiles now moved from pulling him to shimmying over him until he was looking Derek in the face again.
“You know what I mean, Sourwolf!” He grinned. “This should be like a slumber party! Where we stay up all night talking and stuff.”
“Stiles,” Derek groaned. “It’s late, and at this point, everybody else is sleeping. We’re not going to wake them up just to have a stupid slumber party like a couple of teenagers.”
“We are all teenagers at heart,” Stiles said. “And who said everybody else was asleep?”
As if on cue, Derek’s bedroom door creaked open and even without looking, Derek knew everybody was just outside his door.
“What’d he say?” Erica hissed into the room.
“Have you convinced him?” Allison asked.
Stiles hushed them rather loudly to be quiet. It was all so counterproductive.
“I’m working on it,” he bit back.
“Stiles, you said you had it!” Scott whined.
Lydia scoffed. “I said so. I said I should have been the one to talk to Derek.”
“I think Derek’s mad,” Isaac muttered, not at all worriedly, just curious.
“Can we just go back to bed?” Jackson groused.
A soft grunt and a softer sigh signaled Boyd’s and Danny’s presence.
“Stiles.” Derek groaned. He grabbed his blanket and pulled it tightly over his head.
Suddenly, Derek found himself on the bottom of a puppy pile. Stiles was pulling and yanking at his blankets.
“Come on, Derek! Come on!” Isaac leaned his entire weight against Derek.
“Get up, Alpha! Let’s do something!” Erica demanded, grabbing Derek’s blanket and, by extension, his head and his hair.
“No sleep! No sleep!” Scott chanted, bouncing up and down the bed.
“Stiles, move your feet,” Lydia demanded. “And Jackson, grab the fluffiest pillow for me.”
“I brought my laptop,” Danny was saying, while Allison added, “Boyd, can you pull Derek’s desk over here? We can put Danny’s laptop on it. Let’s find something on Netflix.”
Derek groaned as he felt the bed shaking around him and felt more and more weight pressed over his body. Eventually, Erica managed to tug his blanket off of his head.
“Come on, Der!” Stiles grinned. “Let’s–”
Stiles yelped when a pillow connected with the back of his head.
“Pillow fight!” Scott and Jackson shouted.
With that, a pillow connected with Derek's head from his left, followed by Isaac’s triumphant laugh. Stiles launched himself off of Derek as Lydia shrieked.
“If someone hits my laptop, I’ll shoot them full of wolfsbane,” Danny shouted over the din.
Derek sighed as the bed bounced so hard that he was thrown off of it. He glanced over the edge at his pack’s chaotic mess of shrieking, tangled limbs, pillows, and blankets, until a pillow fell off the bed and landed beside him.
He looked at it, then back at the bed.
He grabbed the pillow and launched himself into the fray.
II.
“Der?”
Derek internally groaned, and kept his eyes closed.
“Der? Deeeeer?”
Derek squeezed his eyes closed.
No.
No way in hell.
“Derek?”
A finger poked his cheek.
“Derek. Derek. Der. Der. Sourwolf.”
Each word was punctuated with a sharp poke to Derek’s cheek, his chin, his forehead, and all across his back and ribs.
With a soft growl, Derek opened his eyes and glared up at the other boy, who stared back at him, unflinching and unafraid.
Stiles smiled sweetly. “Hey.”
“Stiles, for fuck’s sake, go to bed,” Derek growled.
“No.” Stiles tossed himself on the bed, and by extension Derek’s back, and curled up against him. This close, Derek could smell Stiles’ apple shampoo. “Der, I can't sleep.”
Derek’s anger fizzled a little, and he shifted his shoulders a little to jostle Stiles.
“Why not?”
The younger male moved around, elbowing Derek twice, before lying belly down across Derek’s back. He was a warm and welcome weight, and Derek’s wolf couldn’t help reveling at the comfort.
“I'm hungry,” Stiles suddenly said.
“Stiles.” Derek sighed.
“Derek, I really can't sleep!”
Derek sighed again. “And what the hell do you expect me to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” Stiles shrugged. “Feed me?”
“Stiles.” Derek growled.
“I don't know! I'm sorry! I just really can’t sleep,” Stiles whined. He snuggled down deeper against Derek’s back. “Do you mind talking to me a little? I promise I'll go to sleep, but I can't right now.”
Derek's resolve vanished in an instant. Everybody knew he wasn’t the most scintillating conversationalist, so he couldn’t help melting a little at the fact that Stiles always seemed to want to talk to him.
He huffed, looking back over his shoulder. “Fine, but only for a little while.”
Stiles raised his eyes, smiling, and Derek felt a lump form in his throat. He shifted awkwardly until he and Stiles were lying side by side and staring up at the ceiling. Their arms were pressed close together.
“So, what do you want to talk about?” the Alpha asked.
Stiles’ face lit up instantly and Derek felt a tug against his wrist as Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand, the fingers lightly tracing over Derek’s palm and the back of his hand before he linked their fingers together, Stiles’ hand warm against his.
Derek let Stiles’ babble wash over him, responding in turn to his every query, question, and comment. Eventually, Stiles’ stories tapered off and his breathing started to slow and deepen.
Sighing deeply, Derek closed his eyes, squeezed Stiles’ hand one last time and let his heartbeat lull him to sleep.
III.
Derek followed silently as Stiles stomped into Derek’s bedroom, a first aid kit tucked under an arm.
“On the bed,” Stiles growled at him.
Derek did so without a word, wincing when the movement stretched the wounds that spanned his chest and torso. Stiles’ lips thinned when he noticed, and he helped Derek slowly remove his shirt. He crouched down in front of him and started wiping away the blood and grime.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Derek grumbled.
Stiles just glared harder at him and, with a vindictive gleam in his eyes, pressed the antiseptic wipes right on Derek’s wound. Derek jumped and hissed, averting his eyes.
“People who jump into the middle of a fight, completely unprepared and unknowledgeable, don’t deserve the non-stinging wipes,” Stiles muttered.
Derek scowled, but he knew his heart wasn’t in it.
This time, he knew he fucked up.
“Hey, how are you guys?” Lydia asked, looking into the room a few minutes later.
“Fine. Derek’s fine. I’m fine. Everyone’s fine.” Stiles closed the first aid kit with a snap.
“Okay, good to hear,” Lydia said, unperturbed by Stiles’ mood and demeanor. “We’re all patched up downstairs. Erica and Jackson already ordered pizzas and Chinese takeout, double the orders. We’ll bring you some once the deliveries arrive.”
Stiles nodded. “Thanks, Lyds.”
Lydia gave Derek a look that clearly said, ‘Fix this, you idiot,’ before leaving.
Stiles placed the kit on Derek’s beside table and moved towards his walk-in closet. He came out toting Derek’s softest sweatpants and his maroon sweater. He tossed them on the bed beside Derek before heading back into the closet.
Derek changed his clothes, wincing a little as his wounds were pulled and stretched. Stiles came out of the closet in Derek’s clothes just in time to see Derek trying to put on his sweater. Stiles cursed under his breath and helped Derek shrug into it.
Stiles stood between Derek’s legs, hands on his shoulders.
“You’re an asshole,” the younger male sneered down at him, glaring pointedly at Derek’s torso and slapping away Derek’s hands when the Alpha tried to reach for his waist.
“Sorry,” Derek said, trying again until Stiles finally relented and allowed Derek to pull him on his lap. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re a dumbass,” Stiles said, still fuming, but one hand coming up to rest on the back of Derek’s neck. “I am so mad at you.”
“I know,” Derek murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Derek clung to Stiles as the male kept on fuming on his lap, but kept on stroking Derek’s neck and eventually tangling his fingers in Derek’s hair. Derek ended up dozing against Stiles’ chest.
He came to a few minutes to maybe half an hour later, curled up with his head on Stiles’ lap and the bed surrounded by pack members and boxes of pizza and takeout.
“Sorry,” Derek muttered to the room.
Danny handed Derek a box of sweet and sour chicken, while Stiles tapped his fingers against a box of Derek’s favorite meat lovers pizza. Allison offered him a cold can of soda.
“You’re forgiven, but you’re still an idiot,” Stiles muttered.
Derek took a bite of his chicken, humming a little at the hand that rubbed his back.
IV.
Derek cursed inwardly as he entered his bedroom, only to find Stiles curled up on his bed and the overpowering, acrid smell of sickness. He had smelled hints of it all over Stiles for the past two days, but had mistaken it for tiredness and crankiness as Stiles struggled with grading his students’ exams, none of whom seemed to be getting satisfactory scores based on Stiles’ angry tirades.
It also explained Scott, Isaac, and Erica hovering just outside Derek’s bedroom with scrunched up noses, or Allison, with her less supernatural nose, who was rubbing Stiles’ back and holding a trash bin in one hand.
Stiles groaned loudly, and everybody immediately held their breaths. Thankfully it passed with the trash bin remaining unused.
Derek sighed. “Let him rest.” He turned to his betas. “Allison, Isaac, make some soup and get some meds. Erica, get a bowl of lukewarm water, a sponge, and a change of clothes from Stiles’ room. And Scott, tell the Sheriff his son is sick and tell Stiles’ department head from the university that he won’t be in for a few days.”
“Are we taking Stiles home?” Scott asked.
Derek shook his head. “No. We can’t have the Sheriff getting sick too. At least werewolves are less prone to colds. And with that, Allison, make sure you and the rest of the humans drink meds. We can’t have any of you getting sick too.”
Everyone walked off to their little assignments, murmuring well wishes to their sick pack member as they did so. Stiles could only groan in reply at each one.
Later, when Stiles was more comfortable, with about a quarter of a bowl of soup and some meds in him, and a reassuring phone call from his father, Derek clambered up on the bed beside him and leaned back against the pillows piled against the headboard.
Stiles looked up at him from swollen, red-rimmed eyes, a redder nose, and shuddering breaths.
Derek reached a hand out, taking Stiles’ hand in his and entwining their fingers. Their hands fit together perfectly, just like all the other times their hands had met in the space between them.
“I don’t feel good,” Stiles murmured. “My head hurts, my throat hurts, everything hurts.”
“I know.” Derek winced, squeezing his hand a little. “Come here.” He tugged on Stiles’ hand.
Stiles’ face scrunched up in confusion and a bit of dazedness, so Derek gestured toward himself and the blanket across his lap.
“Come here,” he said again.
Derek helped Stiles sits up and move closer to him until he was settled between Derek’s legs and across his broad chest. He wrapped an arm around Stiles’ back, and helped Stiles curl up against him, his head on Derek’s shoulder and his face tucked against Derek’s neck. His breath was sticky and warm with sickness, but Derek ignored all that. He placed a hand against the back of Stiles’ head to leech away the headache and stuffiness Stiles was feeling.
“Mm, thanks,” Stiles murmured, melting against Derek. He squeezed their hands together. “Thanks, Der.”
“Get some sleep,” Derek said.
A small nod, and minutes later Stiles was fast asleep, snoring a little against the Alpha’s chest. Derek pressed a kiss to his forehead.
That morning, Boyd was the first of the pack to peek into Derek’s room to check on them. Derek had been awake most of the night and looked up when his taciturn beta walked in.
Boyd didn’t react any different at seeing his Alpha and packmate lying so intimately together. Instead, he asked, “Breakfast?”
Derek nodded, one hand rubbing Stiles’ back when the other shuffled uneasily in sleep. “Yes. And some soup, toast, and meds for Stiles. Let’s see if he can keep some more food down.”
Boyd nodded and quietly walked out.
“And Boyd?”
Derek raised an eyebrow at him and Boyd only shrugged.
“It’s not as if everybody doesn’t know,” Boyd muttered, but when Derek just kept staring at him, Boyd sighed. “Fine. I’ll tell the others to pretend that we don’t see, hear, or know anything.”
Derek nodded and left Boyd to it.
V.
Derek already knew what was going to happen when Stiles led him into Derek’s bedroom with half-baked excuses of ‘forgetting something’ and ‘needing Derek’s help to make the search go faster.’
He knew what was going to happen, and he knew he shouldn’t come with him and he shouldn’t give in, pretty much because there was a bunch of nosy people waiting impatiently for them.
And yet, he held onto Stiles’ hand and followed him where he led.
And when Stiles pushed him inside his bedroom and then shoved him back against the wall, Derek could only grab him by the hips and kiss him. Stiles’ hands were immediately on him, across his chest and back, in his hair, stroking his face and beard, squeezing his ass, sliding under his shirt.
Derek knew better, but he tugged Stiles closer by the waist anyway, yanking their bodies together against the wall. He bit those wonderful, pillowy lips, and let his hands wander up and down under the back of Stiles’ shirt, fingernails making marks across his hot skin.
They knew the pack was waiting for them downstairs, but these moments were rare and Stiles was hot and wanting beneath Derek’s hands and lips and affection. All they both cared about now was each other and the way their kisses grew deeper and hotter and more wanting.
Derek kissed along Stiles’ jaw before kissing and sucking lightly on the curve of his neck, careful not to leave marks. Stiles gasped and moaned, leaning his head back as Derek’s kisses travel lower.
Derek moved back up against Stiles’ temple, whispering a breathy, “We have to go.” He shuddered when Stiles’s hands squeezed his behind. “The pack is going to be looking for–”
There was a knock on the door and then the clamor of the pack followed.
“Alpha, Stiles, stop sucking face!” Erica demanded before kicking the door.
“We’re going to be late for the movie!” Scott whined loudly, while Isaac added, “And we’re going to miss the previews!”
“Guys, let’s not be rude. We should let them finish…” Allison trailed off, before she and the others erupted into laughter.
“Fuck you, people!” Stiles shouted, though he was also snickering a little under his breath.
Danny snorted. “In this case, fuck you,” he drawled, sending everybody into another round of laughter.
“Or it is fuck Derek?” Lydia asked, voice obviously bored.
“Why the hell am I even here?” Boyd complained, exasperated and annoyed.
“I’m asking myself the same question,” Jackson muttered loudly. “Lydia, I blame you for this.”
Derek and his wolf growled at the interruption and the din, and reluctantly relinquished his hold on the younger man’s waist. Stiles leaned against the wall across from him, laughing.
This was what he got for choosing those people as his pack.
“We’re coming! Derek just needs to pull up his pants,” Stiles called out.
“I guess that answers that question,” Lydia said, sending everybody howling with laughter.
Derek growled loudly, only a little satisfied when the pack ran off, shrieking and laughing as they went.
“Remember,” Stiles wagged his finger at him, “No maiming the pups.” He grinned and pressed one last kiss to Derek’s cheek. “We have all the time in the world for that.” He ran out the door, threatening retribution on his wayward packmates.
Derek watched him leave, heart warm and full in his chest. “I'll hold you to that,” he said quietly, knowing that it was true.