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only a man in a funny red sheet

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As Stiles began to reclaim consciousness, he was confused by several things. The first of which being the arm curled around him, holding him close, the second of which being that he was most definitely not in his bed. He cracked an open, protesting his waking, and realized he was still in his blanket fort from the night before. That would mean the arm was probably Derek, which meant that Derek stayed the whole night.

He suppressed a snort, thinking how the first person other than Scott spending the night was the grumpy alpha who didn’t even like him that much. Or maybe he didn’t dislike him as much as it seemed, he did comfort him in his crisis and stay to support him.

He turned a bit, craning his neck to verify that it was indeed Derek with him, not that he’d know who it’d be otherwise. Stiles took a deep breath, taking in how different Derek looked in sleep. The lines that seemed permanent in day were smoothed out and nearly nonexistent. The most shocking thing was that he wasn’t frowning.

As Stiles watched, Derek’s face contorted like that of a small child confronted with something gross before he began to blink back to consciousness. In the space of about ten seconds, all the walls came up and the lines returned.

He glanced over at Stiles, but did not move his arm. “You seem more at ease than yesterday.”

“Yeah.” He grinned sheepishly. “Thanks for staying.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like I was going to leave you alone after that.”

“What were you doing here in the first place?” Stiles asked, ignoring how close they were.

“I was going to ask you to do some research, but it’s not too pressing, and your mental state is more important.”

“Glad to hear I rank above research.” Derek brought the hand that had been slung around Stiles up to brush at his face. “Dude, what are you doing?”

“What did I say about calling me dude?”

“Don’t.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “You didn’t answer why you’re touching my face.”

The corner of Derek’s mouth quirked upwards. “No, I did not.”

“Are you going to?”

Derek didn’t speak, but turned his hand to cup his face, drawing Stiles closer to him.

“What are you –“ Stiles was cut off as Derek’s lips brushed gently over his own. Stiles tried to squawk in protest and shock, but Derek kept kissing him. It was gentler than he’d thought it’d be, not that he’d thought about it, but he was unyielding.

Derek nipped at his lower lip and Stiles moaned, deciding to go with it, feelings could be figured out later. He rocked forward into Derek, pushing into his space. Derek’s tongue pressed at the seam of his lips and he sucked it in, twining it with his own. It was a lot like their talking, both pushing, neither yielding.

Stiles felt everything else disappear, the world narrowing to just him and Derek. Derek still had one hand cupping his face and the other grasped gently at his hip. Stiles gripped both Derek’s biceps from his position slightly over Derek. Derek used the hand on his hip to pull him closer until Stiles was pressed against Derek. Stiles let Derek take his weight and slipped his hands to Derek’s side and holding on.

Derek felt consumed by the feel of the boy above him. It was as if nothing else existed. Then Derek shuddered; the last time he felt anything akin to this, it had been with Kate. While Stiles was no Kate, he couldn’t allow himself to be that weak or that vulnerable again.

With regret Derek drew back to look at Stiles, taking in his lust blown eyes and kissed red lips. He looked beautiful, and Derek was going to shatter that. “Stiles, I—“

Stiles cut him off, eyes narrowing to a glare, “Don’t you dare say you shouldn’t have done that.”

“But it’s true,” Derek protested.

“How? It’s not like you stole my first kiss or anything. It may not have been what I was expecting out of the past two days, but I’ll take it.”

Derek took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “Stiles, the last time I felt like this, it didn’t end well. I don’t get to have good things. Not after-” He cut himself off before he could out what he’d done.

Stiles remained silent and just looked at Derek who seemed… almost defeated. Stiles leaned in to press their foreheads together. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head; I can’t pretend to. But I will help you deal with whatever it is if you’ll let me.”

Derek remained silent, shifting Stiles so he was no longer on top of him, but next to him. He closed his eyes in a pained grimace. This wasn’t something he could do.

“In any case,” Stiles continued, “we shouldn’t be hopping straight into this, seeing as before yesterday I’m pretty sure we couldn’t stand each other.”

Derek nodded gradually before seemingly coming back to himself and standing to leave. “We’ll talk sometime later,” He said slowly as he climbed out the window.

“Okay, just don’t make any rash decisions, alright?” Stiles was confused, Derek invaded his space and was there for him. He also kissed him and then decided that was a bad idea. He knew it wasn’t the actual kissing part, he was plenty into that, but there was something going on in his head and Stiles was going to find out what.