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Stiles is pretty sure he’s going to die. This, however, is not how he planned on going out. No, it was supposed to be something big, something heroic. Throwing himself in front of a silver bullet aimed at his best friend’s heart, perhaps, or stopping the latest thing-that-goes-bump-in-the-night from destroying the city.
He hadn’t planned on being taken out by the common cold.
Alright, he’ll admit that that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but he does feel like the embodiment of death, and he’s pretty sure he looks it, too. His nose has been running since he woke up, his eyes are rimmed with dark circles, and his muscles ache like hell.
A sudden, soft thumping on his door startles him from his thoughts, as he’s pretty sure his dad had left for work twenty minutes ago. Probably just Scott coming over to check up on him.
“Listen, if you’re a robber or serial killer or something, you better watch out. I’ll sneeze all over you, and you’ll totally regret it in a couple days!” he calls into the hallway.
Thump thump thump.
The sound comes from the bottom of his door, as though someone had decided to knock with their foot.
“You’re like the politest axe-murderer ever. Look, it’s not locked, will you just get your ass in here?”
Thump thump thump.
“UGGGHHHHHHHHH,” he groans dramatically, all but flinging himself from his bed, much to his body’s protest. “You better have a really good reason for making me get-“
He cuts himself off as the door swings fully open.
“What the hell?”
There’s a large black dog sitting outside his room, and its tail starts swishing as it looks up at him.
"Uh, hey big guy," Stiles says, cocking his head.
The dog tilts his own in response, and Stiles holds back a laugh.
"You’re a cutie," he tells it. "But uh, how’d you get into my house?"
The dog makes a guttural sound in its throat, and Stiles takes a huge step back.
Okay, so, not a dog. A wolf. Maybe the axe-murderer would’ve been the better option. But wait…
"Derek?"
The wolf- Derek, specifically- makes a more pleased sound this time, and his tail starts swishing across the carpet again. Stiles has only seen Derek’s wolf form once, when he had made the full transformation for the first time in Mexico. After that, he’d refused to change again, and whether it was because he couldn’t or he didn’t want to was unclear. Nobody really wanted to be the one to ask.
“Not that I don’t, ya know, love having wolf-you around and everything, but uh… what’re you doing here?”
Rather than responding- actually, Stiles isn’t even sure if he’s capable of responding in this form- Derek slips past Stiles’ legs and through the doorway, leaping up on the bed. He circles once and flops down, crossing his huge paws and resting his head on them. Then he whines.
“Dude, are you okay? Cuz that’s totally adorable and all, but I’m so not in the mood for a trip to Deaton’s right now. Like you’re gonna have to go howl outside Scott’s window till he comes to get you or something. Plus, I’m pretty sure there’re laws about putting a leash on you in the street, and I really don’t feel like having my hand bitten off, so. Yeah.”
Derek just whines again, and the sound could probably even rival Scott’s puppy-dog eyes. Stiles can’t help but walk over to him.
When Stiles nears, Derek scooches up the bed and grabs the corner of his blanket between his teeth, yanking it back.
Stiles takes that as the universal sign for ‘get in bed’, so he does, pulling the blanket back up over himself.
Before he can even try saying something to the possibly-coherent Derek, the wolf gets back on all fours and drapes himself over Stiles’ back.
“Uh, Der? Maybe some personal space?”
Derek lets out yet another growl.
“Right. No space then. I’ll just lay here and take a nap, and you do whatever it is you do. Sound good?”
He receives a contented noise in response.
“Great,” Stiles mutters. “Just try not to eat my face while I’m out.”
Derek makes another noise, something like confusion, and suddenly he rolls over on the bed and lands next to Stiles. He burrows himself into Stiles’ stomach and wiggles his head around till it’s next to his fingers.
“Listen, I think human you wouldn’t be too fond of me petting your head.”
Derek huffs, and stretches a little further, flopping his face down on top of Stiles’ hand and effectively petting himself till Stiles gives in.
“Yeah, big bad werewolf my ass,” he grumbles, rubbing behind Derek’s ears.
———
Stiles wakes up feeling warm and happy. He hadn’t actually intended to fall asleep, just to lay there till wolfy Derek was appeased, but the soft fur and the warmth and the strange feeling of safety he provided had somehow managed to knock him out.
As his mind focuses a little, he feels his arms wrapped around something.
No, not something. Someone.
“Oh my god,” he says, and Derek, now as human as ever, suddenly snaps awake himself.
“What?” he asks groggily, and Stiles quickly releases him.
“Would you believe that you showed up at my door all wolfed out and demanding to cuddle?” he asks.
Yeah, he’s probably about to have his throat threatened to be ripped out again.
Or actually be ripped out.
Instead, Derek just says, “Did I?”
“Yeah, dude. It was pretty weird.”
“Wolf must’ve sensed you were in trouble and came to help.”
“By snuggling?”
“It’s not snuggling. It’s bonding. Physical contact makes us feel safe. I can’t exactly control it yet.”
“Yeah, I’d gathered that last part for myself.”
Derek just drapes his arm back over Stiles, pulling him in again.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
Lying in bed huddled together with Derek Hale? Yeah, Stiles is pretty sure that’s more than okay.
“Totally. So very okay. But… why?”
“Maybe human me likes contact too.”
Before Stiles can say how absolutely cheesy and adorable that sounded, Derek adds, “Shut up, Stiles. Go back to sleep.”
So, wrapped up in Derek’s arms, he does.