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The door bursts open as Stiles shoulders his way in, wood practically falling off the hinges. He frantically brushes the snow off his shoulders, curling in on himself.
"You need to take the coat off," Jordan says, a slight lisp in his voice from his fangs, and he follows his own advice. His shoes quickly follow, kicked off in haste to get rid of the cold, wet clothes that will only worsen their situation.
Stiles looks up at him and shakes his head, chattering teeth keeping him from speaking clearly. He's been hit by the brunt of the snow, being human, and he's as stubborn as ever. He moves to the bed, not even caring to check for bedbugs or nefarious stains, intending to curl up under the covers.
"Uh uh, no way Stiles." Jordan catches Stiles' arm.
"I'm going to freeze to death, aren't I?" Stiles deadpans, teeth slowing enough to speak now that they're out of the blizzard. The room isn't as warm as either of them would prefer, but it's better to gradually warm up rather than a shock to the system with sudden heat.
"Not if I can help it. Technically I think you should shower to heat up, but we've been awake long enough that sleep is probably fine once you get rid of the clothes. I'll take the floor."
Stiles balks at the idea, shrinking even more into himself.
"I'm sorry but the coat is keeping me warm, buddy. Not all of us have a self-generating heater inside of us." He's glowering at Jordan, semblance of a pout on his face.
"Stiles, you're one of the smartest people I know, which means you can't seriously think keeping a soaking wet and freezing cold coat on is smart. So either you're being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn, which I could buy if I didn't think you were nervous about being seen with less clothing on, but you're on the lacrosse team and have to change all the time in front of other people. Even if you're still shy because of that, it wouldn't override your logical thinking. That must mean the cold has gotten to you, and that's a hell of a lot more serious."
"It's not that," Stiles mumbles once Jordan finishes. He rolls his eyes when Jordan just looks at him.
"What?" The question is simple and confused, Jordan's face showing his exhaustion.
"I'm perfectly able-minded, despite what you might think. I just don't see why it's necessary to strip when you're a literal hellhound is all."
Stiles won't meet Jordan's eyes, body loosening as he begins to pace and warm up the tiniest bit.
"You're lying," Jordan finally responds. "I may not be able to detect supernatural levels of body cues but I'm still a deputy and I've known the Stilinskis long enough to be able to tell. So you're going to take off at least the top layer, regardless of why you don't want to."
He crosses the room and looks down at Stiles, only a few inches shorter but it feels like more with how self conscious he's acting. Jordan starts to peel the frozen coat off him, and Stiles actually works with him this time, grumbling to himself but obliging.
Once his shirt and pants have been removed as well, leaving Stiles in his boxers, arms crossed, Jordan moves to pull away. He'd already offered the bed to Stiles and is surprised when he is stopped by a hand around his arm. Before he can ask, Stiles speaks up.
"You're not sleeping on the floor."
He doesn't continue, but as he walks to the bed he pulls Jordan along with him.
"Are you sure?" Jordan asks.
"Just hold me already," Stiles says, exasperation in his voice. "I like you, dumbass, thats why I didn't want to be naked with you. But I'll ignore the fact that I'm not your type if you use some of your hellhound heat to warm me up."
They get situated under the covers, Jordan curled around Stiles with a leg hooked over his hip to keep him close.
"Who said you're not my type?" Jordan whispers.
Stiles smiles to himself as he drifts to sleep.