Work Text:
Stiles wakes up on fire.
Okay, so maybe he’s not literally on fire, but it sure feels like it. He blearily kicks the covers off, reveling in the little bit of cool air that washes over him. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to help too much, and Stiles is about to sleepily meander over to the shower in order to dunk himself under the cold water, when he realizes the source of his problem.
Derek has managed to break down his meticulously crafted pillow barrier and is now wrapped around him like a freaking octopus.
Stiles sighs and resigns himself to his fate - death by werewolf cuddles. After the first time this happened, waking up sweaty and disoriented and wrapped in his boyfriend’s vice like grip, Stiles had taken to making a pillow wall once Derek had drifted off in order to prevent any heat-related casualties.
Idly, Stiles wonders how Derek would take it if he requested separate beds. Not, like, separate rooms or anything - just separate beds. A bunk bed, maybe. He could work with that.
"Stiles?" Derek asks sleepily, nuzzling against Stiles’ neck, too-hot breath ghosting over his skin.
"Hey Der," Stiles mumbles, grimacing as he feels a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. "Do you think maybe you could let me go for a sec? I need to piss."
"Yeah, sure," Derek replies, loosening his grip. "Do you think you could turn up the thermostat while you’re at it?"
"Turn it up?" Stiles asks, sure that his doziness has affected his hearing. "You meant down, right?"
"No," Derek answers, sounding endearingly confused. "It’s cold in here."
“Cold?" Stiles repeats, turning over to stare at Derek incredulously, even though he has to squint due to the dim lighting.
"You’re going to get sick," Derek mumbles, cheeks flushing a little.
"Dude, if anything, I’m going to get sick from the heat," Stiles protests, running a hand through his disgustingly damp hair.
"But your body temperature always runs so low," Derek replies, frowning as he brings a burning hot hand up to Stiles’ forehead, presumably checking his temperature.
"Low?" Stiles says, confused. "Der, my body temp’s a very healthy 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit."
"98?" Derek repeats, sounding alarmed.
"Point 6, but yeah," Stiles replies, brow furrowing in confusion. "You know, normal human body temp."
"Oh," Derek says, blinking at Stiles.
"What, is the standard werewolf body temperature higher or something?" Stiles asks, kicking off the blankets which are still covering his feet.
"103," Derek mutters, sounding mildly embarrassed.
Realization dawns on Stiles.
"Oh my god, you’re so cute,” he laughs, leaning in to press a light kiss to Derek’s lips. “You’re also an idiot, though.”
"Shut up," Derek grumbles, and Stiles can tell that his face is bright red, even in the darkness of the room.
"You were worried about me," Stiles continues, grinning. "That’s why you keep turning up the thermostat and cuddling me. You thought I was too cold. Wait, what’s it at now?"
"82 degrees," Derek admits, sounding sheepish.
"Dude, how much have you been paying for the energy bill?" Stiles asks, gaping at him.
Derek glares at him.
"Aw, hey, I think it’s sweet of you," Stiles says, smiling softly. "But seriously, I’m going to go turn it down to, like, 65 or something."
Stiles wakes up the next morning with Derek, once again, curled around him like an octopus. Thankfully, he’s not burning up this time.