Work Text:
Derek stared in the mirror long enough to hear Stiles stumble his way out of bed. He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again to stare at his beard. It was long and shaggy and it made him look wild. Hard. He barely recognized the person staring back at him.
He'd been putting it off for so, so long. He always had Laura to help, but now she was gone, and it was just easier to let it grow. Easier to bottle up all the emotions and memories. But it was time.
He grabbed the can of shaving cream, squeezed a handful out and lathered his face but couldn't bring himself to actually pick up the razor. Images of him sitting on the sink watching his dad shave flashed by, and he whined. He used to watch his dad every morning, without fail. It was their thing, and with a house full of children and family it was nice to get some one on one with his dad. As he got older, and started growing his own facial hair, his dad sat him down and explained everything in detail. Derek was so proud the first time he managed to shave his whole face without nicking himself, and his dad's smile had made something warm unfurl in his chest. Two weeks later, he was gone. His memory was replaced by smoke and screams and pain
By the time the first tear slipped down his face, Stiles was there to guide him to the toilet. Stiles wiped the tear away with his thumb, then leaned down to press a kiss against Derek’s forehead. Derek closed his eyes as more tears leaked out, and Stiles kissed them all away as he cupped Derek’s face. His fingers smeared through the shaving cream, but Derek welcomed the touch. Craved it, if he was being honest with himself. Finally his tears stopped and Stiles gave one last kiss to Derek’s forehead and moved away.
Derek opened his eyes and watched as Stiles rinsed his hands off. His eyes looked puffy, but the smile he gave Derek was small and sweet. Stiles reapplied the lather, picked up the razor, then took the first, careful swipe.
Derek was shattering into a million tiny pieces, but Stiles’ hands were sure and steady as he guided Derek’s face to where he needed it. He took a deep breath through his nose, taking in the familiar scent of Stiles. It was grounding, in a way, to have Stiles stand in front him and run the razor over his face and neck. He trusted Stiles, never worried about showing him his most vulnerable parts. Stiles showed time and time again that he would protect the parts nobody else saw. Would cradle them and love them and put them back together to make them stronger than before.
Derek kept his eyes focused on Stiles’ face as he worked. The bathroom was quiet save for the sounds of Stiles’ heartbeat and the swishing of water as Stiles rinsed the blade off. Derek focused on his heartbeat, on the steady familiarity of it. It never faltered as he finished shaving Derek. Never faltered as he rinsed the blades off and grabbed a hand towel and patted Derek’s face dry. It wasn’t until he looked into Derek’s eyes, and Derek gave a small smile, that Stiles’ heart tripped a beat before steadying out again. He smiled back, eyes no longer puffy but bright, and reached for Derek’s hands.
Derek allowed himself to be pulled up and led back to the bedroom. The room was still dark. Apparently Stiles hadn’t gotten around to opening the blinds before finding Derek in the bathroom. He was glad, though. Derek was still feeling a little raw inside, and he wasn’t ready to face the rest of the world quite yet.
Stiles stopped them next to the bed, then tugged softly on the hem of Derek’s shirt. He didn’t say a word, just stared up into Derek’s eyes, but he was clearly asking a question. Derek nodded and lifted his arms, and Stiles pulled his shirt off, tossed it carelessly on the floor, then ran his fingers along the waistband of Derek’s sweats. Derek nodded again, then stepped out of his sweats when Stiles slid them down. He didn’t have any underwear on underneath, and Derek barely resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest.
Stiles just smiled at him, pulled his own shirt and pants off, then tugged Derek down onto the bed. It was soft, and warm, and smelled so strongly of them that Derek couldn’t help the deep breath he took. Stiles pressed up against him, tangled their legs together and pulled Derek’s head down into the crook of his neck. Another deep breath, and Derek finally released the last of his tension and just melted into Stiles’ embrace.
It was a Sunday morning, and they had no plans until dinner with John that evening. He was perfectly content to stay in bed, soak up the scents of Stiles and Derek and love. Stiles’ skin was warm against his own, and exactly what he needed. There was nothing sexual about it, and Derek knew Stiles had no intention of making it sexual. He always seemed to know when Derek needed this. Needed to be close. Cuddling with clothes was good, but full skin on skin contact was best. It was comforting, perfect, and Derek closed his eyes as Stiles slid an arm around his waist and squeezed.
He had no idea what he did in life to deserve Stiles. Didn’t dare bring it up, either, or he’d have to listen to Stiles ramble on about all the good Derek has done. He won’t ever tell Stiles, but, he secretly loved whenever Stiles would start in. He showed so much passion, and belief, and his heart never stuttered in a lie. Derek never would have been able to trust him a year ago, but he was finally in a place where he could begin to now.
He suddenly had the urge to thank Stiles for all that he has done for him. For finding him, sticking by him. Loving him and allowing Derek to love him back.
He nuzzled into Stiles’ neck, placed a soft kiss against it, then let out a quiet sigh.
“Thank you,” he whispered. He didn’t say anything else, hoped that Stiles realized he was thanking him for more than just a shave. Stiles squeezed him hard, then pressed his lips against the top of Derek’s head.
“Always,” Stiles said, and Derek smiled against his neck.