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It was the first time Stiles was staying over, and he was excited. It was a big step in their relationship.
He was reading when Deucalion came out of the bathroom and Stiles looked up, smiling happily at Deucalion until he saw that he was still wearing his glasses, even though he had stripped down to sleeping pants. Then his smile dropped right off his face.
“Deuc,” Stiles started, but Deucalion interrupted him.
“Do you need to be somewhere tomorrow? Do we have to set an alarm?” he asked and turned his back towards Stiles.
Stiles had let it slide during their cuddle sessions, that Deucalion was always wearing his glasses around him, but that he was about to go to bed with them still on was just ridiculous.
Stiles wouldn’t think less of Deucalion, and he sure as hell wouldn’t leave and he had told Deucalion that more than once already, before Deucalion had asked him to stop pushing.
“Deuc,” Stiles tried again and Deucalion’s shoulders tensed.
“What?” he snapped out, even though he clearly knew what this was about.
“You don’t have to wear them to bed,” Stiles lowly said and Deucalion put the alarm down with more force than necessary.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to wear them to bed. I’ll take them off when the light is out.”
Stiles tried his hardest not to be hurt by that, but something must have translated in his scent because Deucalion finally turned towards him.
“Stop it. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Sure, because you wear them all the time when you’re alone too,” Stiles gave back, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.
“Did I ever tell you about Matthew?” Deucalion asked him apropos of nothing and Stiles shook his head in confusion.
“I was in love with him, a few years back,” Deucalion said and Stiles refused to feel jealous over that, because they both had a dating history.
“Okay?” he questioningly said because he didn’t know where this was going.
“It was going well; we saw each other regularly and there was talk about meeting his parents. And one day he asked me to take off my glasses,” Deucalion explained and he touched his glasses in a seemingly unconscious move.
“What happened?” Stiles whispered, even though he could guess where this was going.
“He stopped calling afterwards,” Deucalion shortly said. “Broke up with me over text, said he would never get used to the sight.”
There was a bitterness in Deucalion’s voice Stiles had never heard before but he supposed it made sense if Matthew left him because of his scars.
“So forgive me if I’m in no rush to scare you away too,” Deucalion went on and walked over to the door. “I’ll sleep on the couch today.”
“No,” Stiles yelled and was out of the bed in an instant, catching Deucalion’s hand and pulling him back towards the bed.
“Don’t,” he pleaded.
He framed Deucalion’s face with his hands and Deucalion didn’t even flinch at that; didn’t think for a second Stiles would take his glasses away without consent and Stiles was not about to prove him wrong.
“I won’t mind,” he mumbled and now Deucalion’s hand grabbed his wrists.
“You don’t know that,” Deucalion told him and Stiles nodded.
“Fair, but you won’t know if I’ll leave you either,” he gave back and could feel Deucalion’s grip on his wrists tighten.
“Do you trust me?” Stiles quietly asked him and Deucalion took longer than Stiles would have liked to nod.
“Then trust that I won’t leave you over something like this,” Stiles said. “Your atrocious taste in music though, that’s another matter entirely,” he joked and was rewarded with a small smile from Deucalion.
“Well, if my music hasn’t driven you away yet,” he mused and then guided Stiles’ hands higher, until his fingertips touched the frame of his glasses.
Stiles gently took the glasses off, and Deucalion had his eyes closed, giving Stiles time to take the scars in.
Stiles trailed a finger over one of them, featherlight, and Deucalion shuddered under his fingers.
“Do they hurt?” he asked.
“Not anymore,” Deucalion gave back, but he kept his eyes closed.
“Deuc,” Stiles chided softly.
“I’ve been told it’s hard to look at them.”
“Okay, but I’d like to judge that for myself,” Stiles said and Deucalion hesitated for a second longer before he finally opened his eyes.
Everything was red, except for the pupil, which was a pale silver. It was an unsettling sight, mostly because eyes shouldn’t look like this, but Stiles didn’t care.
“They are beautiful,” he told Deucalion who scoffed and tried to break free of Stiles.
“No need to lie,” he spit out and Stiles carefully tightened his grip on him.
“They are beautiful, because they are your eyes and I love you. Nothing about you is ugly to me,” Stiles said and that stopped Deucalion’s attempt to flee.
“I love you too,” he gave back. “I was just…”
“Scared, and I get that. But there’s nothing you need to be scared off, I promise.”
“Okay,” Deucalion gave back and let Stiles lead them back to bed.
“You don’t have to wear the glasses around me if you don’t want to,” Stiles said as he got them both under the covers.
“I usually don’t wear them when I’m at home,” Deucalion admitted and Stiles gently punched his shoulder.
“Then don’t, dear god, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable!”
“You couldn’t,” Deucalion said and pulled Stiles close to press a kiss to his temple.
Stiles wrapped his arms around Deucalion, holding on tightly, and rested his head on his chest.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he mumbled and pressed a lazy kiss to Deucalion’s chest.
“Always, dear boy,” Deucalion gave back and Stiles fell asleep to the feeling of lips on this forehead.