Stiles knows it’s mostly his fault that they got the air mattress, but his leg is getting tired and it’s too hot to keep this up much longer, Derek could surely takeover for the last bit. After all, it’s mostly his fault, not entirely.
Stiles was the one who’d wanted to stop by the roadside diner and eat their meal at an actual table instead of in the car, but Derek had insisted on tasting Stiles’ strawberry milkshake. And because he was Derek, he couldn’t just take a sip of Stiles’ drink. No, he had to lick the taste out of Stiles’ mouth. That had cost them at least another ten minutes. So, in conclusion, if his boyfriend had been able to keep his tongue to himself they would’ve arrived before Scott and Kira and they wouldn’t have to sleep on this stupid air mattress.
When he’s finally done, Stiles throws the bedding at Derek’s head. ‘You can make the bed. I need a shower.’
The cold spray feels like heaven against his warm skin. He half hopes that Derek will join him, but the nerd is probably done making their “bed” and reading something, most likely in Spanish or Polish.
He chuckles when he enters the living room a couple minutes later and to find the man immersed in a story.
‘What?’ Derek asks, looking up distractedly.
‘Nothing.’ Stiles feels the sappy and fond look on own his face. ‘You’re just kind of predictable, big guy.’
Derek frowns and is about to protest when Stiles shuts him up with a kiss, and says, ‘That’s a good thing.’
He drops down on the mattress with a contented sigh. The sight turns into a bark of laughter, when his usually graceful boyfriend flop to the floor with a squeak. When Derek tries to frown him into silence, he feels tears springing to his eyes.
Derek moves forward in a flash and then Stiles is airborne. He flails around, trying to land back onto the mattress, but it’s no use. He lands on the floor with a grunt.
‘Asshole,’ Stiles grumbles when he sees Derek’s proud smile, and then throws himself on his side of the mattress as hard as he can, sending a silent prayer to whoever’s up there that it won’t burst.
And whoever is up there must really like him, because not only does the mattress hold, but Derek actually lands a few feet away. The man tried to twist in the air and land more gracefully. But he’s a wolf and not a cat, and still landed in awkward pile.
Derek turns his face to where Stiles is lying on the bed, trying for an innocent smile. He growls and flips back onto the mattress.
This time, Stiles is ready. He grabs on to his boyfriend’s arm and instead of landing on the floor, he lands in the exact same spot he was just lying. The displacement of air makes Derek bounce up a little and Stiles can’t help the giggle that escapes him.
He’s about to move off the mattress and get his revenge, when he catches sight of the figure in the entrance to the cabin’s living room. He’s always found Lydia a little terrifying. With the high heels, the perfect outfits, the flawless make-up, and never a hair out of place. But somehow, without all that, wearing nothing but a pair of pyjamas, his friend is a lot more scary. She has her arms crossed and one bare foot is tapping the floor impatiently. He can’t see her expression in the dim light, but he doesn’t need to.
‘Sweethearts, shut up and go to sleep,’ she says. ‘Or I will have Allison shoot an arrow in the mattress and you can sleep on the floor.’
Stiles drops his head like a scolded six year-old, muttering ‘Party-pooper’ under his breath. Derek jabs him with his elbow and Stiles quickly says, ‘Sorry. We’ll be quiet.’
Lydia nods and then turns back to her and Allison’s bedroom.
When she’s gone, Stiles turns to Derek with a grin and cuddles into his boyfriend’s side.
‘We’re sleeping on a bouncy castle.’