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Stiles wants to say he’s surprised. But he really isn’t. Derek never touches anyone. Ever. Or at least not in the obvious expectable way. If someone is sad he doesn’t hug them, nope, he waits until almost everyone goes their way and then brushes tips of his fingers over the shoulder the person who’s sad in featherlight touch. If someone is happy he never gives them high five, but he lets them lean into him for a second without grumbling, before he retreats.
Derek Hale wants to touch and be touched. But he doesn’t know how to interact with other human beings. So this? It’s logical, really, Derek is still touch-starved. And these moments? These are the resolve.
Stiles is thinking about all of this while lying on the floor with his backpack digging into his right shoulder and heavy wolf on his chest.
In anyone’s life, this would be something to freak out about. It says a lot about his, if he just calmly lies here, occasionally rolling his eyes, while massive fluffy beast snuggles (because that’s exactly what Derek does) into his chest. Derek would probably object to it, grumbling something about scent marking and heightened instincts, but they all knew how it is. Wolf Derek just loooves the cuddles. And he tries to get them whenever possible. And picks Stiles for it every time he can.
Stiles smirks, when he buries his fingers into the thick fur on the sides of Derek’s neck and scratches, making the wolf squirm in pure bliss, tongue lolling out, leg twitching. He knows better than to laugh at Derek for that. Well, he does now, anyway. (He tried. It hurt.)
“Been a lonely day, Sourwolf?” he asks, when the wolf finally pushes it’s body up, letting Stiles free, but not going too far away. Derek hops on the couch with an expectant look on his furry face. Stiles scrambles to his feet and then drops his ass next to him. “Okay, come here.” He pats his leg, and Derek drops his crushing body on him. Stiles hisses how Derek hits one of the fresh bruises from today’s lacrosse practice. Derek whines and pushes his snout under Stiles’ hoodie, right where the bruise blooms to its full beauty.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Coach put me in defense, today. Bruises always come with it.” He scratches the wolf between his ears and smirks when Derek rumbles deep inside his chest. “Now now, no need to get all pissy about it. I’ll be fine.” Derek ignores him only to push his snout in the bruise and then licks it twice before retreating.
“Yeah yeah, all better. Thanks. You big softie,” Stiles murmurs with his face hidden in Derek’s fur. It earns him a sharp nip from the wolf, but that’s all, and after that Derek snuggles more into him, curling around Stiles like an overgrown kitten. There's a heavy sigh, and Stiles smiles, he can feel Derek’s body go slack on him. A great nap is in his nearest future, that’s for sure.
Stiles would love to say he’s surprised by this, but after all those things he's experienced in last two years, he really can’t. To be fair, cuddling with a fluffy wolf is hardly more surprising than being asked on a date by Derek Hale, right? Especially, if the said wolf is, in fact, his boyfriend, now.
Stiles snorts. His life, man… So fucking amazing.