Work Text:
Stiles was woken up by his phone ringing. He leaned over the side of the bed to check the caller ID, groaning when he saw Deaton’s name.
“Who?” Derek asked, his voice thick and groggy. Stiles ignored the call and burrowed back under the covers.
“Deaton,” Stiles answered. He tucked his head under Derek’s chin, wrapping them up together tightly. Derek yawned, jaw cracking above Stiles’ head.
“No,” Derek said. Stiles pat his hip and shut his eyes. He yawned, albeit more softly.
“I’m not gonna go,” Stiles assured him, already half-asleep again. “Not this time. Still got stitches from last time.”
“For the best,” Derek agreed. He ran one hand down Stiles’ back, fingertips lazily tracing the knobs of his spine.
“If Scott calls-”
“Ignore it.”
“I can’t just ignore-”
“Ignore it.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” Stiles murmured into Derek’s chest, “but I’m not gonna ignore it. We’re just gonna have to hope he doesn’t call.”
“Go back to sleep,” Derek ordered tiredly. Stiles tipped his head back to glance up at him; Derek’s eyes were already closed again, if ever they were open.
“Can do,” Stiles agreed, shutting his own eyes and burrowing back in.