Come to My Window
Stiles leaned on Derek more than he walked out to the car, but they got there eventually, and it wasn’t long before Derek was trying to shove a drunk, apparently boneless teenager into his car.
“Jesus,” he muttered, cupping his hand over the top of Stiles’ head to guide him. “Don’t give yourself a concussion now, idiot.”
He folded the kid into the car and buckled him in, trying to avoid the soft skin of Stiles’ stomach where his shirt had rode up. Bad enough he had the Sheriff’s drunk, underage son in his car. He didn’t need to be hard while he drove home.
God, he was so going to get arrested again.
- Part 1 of Come to My Window
Stiles’ heart gave an uncomfortable lurch which was so not fair. That was supposed to be a Lydia-Martin-Looked-At-Him thing. “Um. Thanks?” He cleared his throat and stood up. “Jacket off, I guess. Probably not comfortable.”
“And kind of damp,” Derek added, like he was actually trying to be helpful.
Stiles shook his head. “Yeah. Let’s de-leather you, then."
- Part 2 of Come to My Window
“Heeey there, dire wolf.”
Shaking his head, Derek stepped around the mattress to the bed. “Hey. They let you out early.”
“Hospital anxiety. Doctor agreed I’d be better recovering at home once I got to the resting part.” Stiles grinned. “You gonna stand there and loom all night? I know there isn’t a treeline like you’re used to, but you could use my closet if you really wanted.”
- Part 3 of Come to My Window