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It doesn't matter that they did this before, every time Stiles wakes up here, warmth surrounding him as he blinks his eyes open, it feels like a dream. it feels like he's still only imagining things, no matter how long it's been reality and a regular thing in his life.
He waits until his eyes can focus and his fingers don't feel like they're wrapped in cotton, then he slowly brushes them over the warm body he's pressed against. Without fail, he gets a chuckle and a soft touch on the top of his head -- a kiss, or just a press of lips against his messy hair.
"I'm here," Derek says, his chest rumbling under Stiles's head. "You're not dreaming."
Some days, waking up from a nap is like coming up for air after a long dive. Stiles needs a few moments to catch his breath, to shake off the fuzziness that sleep leaves him with. Other days he wakes up with a start and in panic.
Each time, Derek's already awake -- some of the times he doesn't sleep at all when Stiles nods off -- and he rubs his warm hand over Stiles's back, then links the fingers of the other hand with Stiles's to stop them trembling against Derek's skin.
The naps are a comfort, even the ones that Stiles wakes up from disoriented and scared. He just keeps wondering if there will ever be a day when he'll wake up from one and won't have to remind himself that it's real. That he didn't fall into one of his dreams.