"I'm tired," Stiles said with a wide yawn.
"I know. No sleep, yet," Derek warned.
The young man let out a mewling whine. "Why? Sleep is our friend."
"Sleep is your enemy when you are in a mare's territory. The last time we tried to sleep; Phobetor nearly drove us mad. You were kicking and screaming. We can't risk it," Derek declared reasonably.
"Pull over at the next hotel that doesn't have a Norman Bates vibe," he demanded.
"Stiles…" he tried to reason with the human, once again.
Stiles sighed and looked at the man next to him. "We're in danger if we don't sleep, soon. Sleep deprivation is not a pretty sight and can cause hallucinations."
Begrudgingly, Derek did as ordered, getting them a room, determined to stay awake and keep them safe.
"What did your mom do when you had a nightmare?" Stiles asked sleepily from the king-sized bed.
The werewolf just shook his head. "I didn't have nightmares. I just played until I was too tired and slept."
"I had nightmares all the time. Especially after my dad had been shot. It wasn't even in the line of duty. Just an idiot deputy forgetting to clear his gun, before trying to clean it. Dad was only shot in the ass, but I would have nightmares of; what if. What if a robber shot him? What if his co-workers snapped and went postal? So many nightmare-inducing questions. Scarier questions kept me up at night, after Scott was bitten. There was one thing my mom did that helped me though," he rambled.
"What did she do?" Derek asked softly.
Stiles held out his arms and waited for his restless mate to settle in them. "Think of all the things you love. All the things that make you happy. Keep those thoughts; hug them to your chest so they can't escape. Sweet dreams are made of this. Now, close your eyes and let the good and light keep the dark and bad away. Good night, Derek, sweet dreams."
No other words were said that night. Sweet dreams were had by both men, safe in each other's arms.