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Sleeping Dogs

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An all new type of weird gets added to Stiles's life, which he had actually thought was completely full of weird already, when he stumbles into his room after a long day of school and lacrosse practice to find Derek Hale asleep on his bed. The man doesn't even stir and his breathing remains deep and steady, his whole body relaxed in a way that Stiles has never seen before.

"What the...?" he mouths, somehow managing not to make a sound, and backs the hell out of there, until he's all the way downstairs, in the living room. Then he finds his phone and texts Scott.

Dude, Derek Hale is asleep in my bed.

He doesn't have to wait long for the answer.

I'm happy for you?

"What," Stiles says, and then texts Scott back.


I don't know how I'm supposed to answer a text like that! I thought you hated him!

"Oh my god," Stiles says and calls Scott. "Oh my god," he says to Scott. "Dude, you saw me like five seconds ago. I am not the Flash, I did not have time to get home and have sex with Derek freaking Hale, make him fall asleep and then text you about it. For one, I would never text you about it. Well, at least not right after, because that's just not gentlemanly behavior."

"Okay, sorry, your text was just really weird," Scott says. "What is he doing there then?"

"Sleeping, apparently," Stiles says. "I don't know! He's just there, completely dead to the world, like this is a thing that we do! I mean, he didn't even stir when I got home and I didn't exactly tiptoe around."

"Did you check if he's even alive?" Scott asks.

"Well, he was breathing okay and he didn't look hurt," Stiles says. "Do you think he might be, like, sick or something?" Because, obviously, Stiles's bedroom is the most logical place for sick werewolves to be in. Or maybe it is, in Derek's magical land of werewolf logic, Stiles doesn't know.

"Maybe you should check up on him?" Scott says hesitantly.

"Dude, if this is some kind of magical sleep-inducing sickness, I am not playing the prince to Derek's Sleeping Beauty," Stiles protests.

"Because that's totally the first thing that comes to mind," Scott says, and damn it, he's not supposed to use sarcasm against Stiles. That's just not how this friendship is supposed to work.

"I am going in," Stiles says, squaring his shoulders. "If I don't call you back, he's probably killed me while I tried to wake him up. This is a straight up violation of the 'let sleeping dogs lie' rule. I want lilies on my grave."

"I will bring fresh ones every week," Scott promises.

When Stiles gets back upstairs, though, Derek is gone.