Work Text:
Stiles snuffles as he rises from sleep slowly, consciousness sweeping over him in a gentle tide. He's warm, a heavy comforter covering him up to his shoulders and keeping their body heat trapped. The pillow under his head feels like a cloud, and his half-asleep brain supplies him with the image of just that as the pleasant dream he's still clinging to shifts. It takes great work to pull himself from sleep with the steady rhythm of fingers scratching through his hair, up and down and up and down in a motion that makes him feel boneless.
He takes a deep breath and relishes in the smell of them. The scent of the night they'd shared is still clinging to their skin and Stiles smiles as he snuffles sleepily. Turning, he seeks out the warmth radiating from his bed partner, shuffling around until his forehead finds skin. He purses his lips and presses a sleepy kiss to what he thinks is a hip, curling around a leg as the hand on his head continues to run up and down his scalp.
It feels so good. Feels so good to finally be here, lying in bed with the man he loves. Stiles' eyes burn. God, but waking up next to his fiancé in their condo is better than anything he ever could have imagined, better than anything that's ever happened to him.
When he realizes that he'll get to do this for the rest of his life, he has to take a minute to catch his breath as his heart tries to beat out of his chest. They spent so long apart, the four long years it took for Stiles to get his degree and make the decision to move back to the town he’d told himself he’d never step foot in again for anyone.
But here he is, the magic of Beacon Hill’s a faint glow in his chest. He can feel the Nemeton and the Preserve if he thinks, shifting through the bright spark the Nogitsune had left inside him, once upon a time. It really does feel like home, layered under the wards Stiles had left on their condo just minutes after picking up the keys.
He breathes deeply, slowly, letting it all sink in. He’s home, home to stay, home in his fiancé’s arms.
Eventually, it doesn't feel like he's going to split open with happiness, and he rubs his face into the smooth silk of the pillowcase as he wakes up the rest of the way.
“Morning, Coach” he mumbles, words distorted with the way his face is mushed into the other man’s side. He'd never quite gotten rid of the moniker, though now it's more of an endearment than a title. “Whatcha doing up so early?”
“Watching you sleep,” Bobby tells him plainly. Stiles laughs, pressing the sound into his skin. He reaches up and Bobby's hand leaves his head to tangle their fingers together. His hand is tugged up, and Bobby kisses his ring finger, pressing the metal his ring into Stiles’ skin.
“How two-thousand-and-eight sparkling vampire of you,” Stiles snarks, laughing even louder when Bobby pinches his side. He finally opens his eyes, peering up at his fiancé in the dim light coming through their drapes. “That wasn't romantic at all. Besides, I don't even think vampires are real, babe.”
“That was the most romantic thing I ever said to ya, and you damn well know it,” Bobby grumbles with a pout that he presses against Stiles' hand. Stiles huffs another laugh as he pushes himself up, swinging his leg over Bobby's lap and settling on his thighs. The comforter slips off them and leaves them bare, but the room is warm enough that he only shivers a little as Bobby's hands trail up his sides to cup his cheeks.
“The most romantic thing was definitely your proposal,” Stiles teases against his mouth, laughing when Bobby grumbles.
“I get it,” he snaps, though his fingers are gentle as they trace over Stiles' jaw. “Sayin' I might as well shack up with you for the health benefits wasn't a good proposal. You still took the damn ring.”
“I still took the damn ring,” Stiles repeats, their lips brushing together.