Work Text:
Inspired by Taylor Swift’s Midnights album
"How'd we end up on the floor anyway?"
You say, "Your roommate's cheap-ass
screw top rose, that's how"
'Oh shit,' Derek thought miserably, throwing his arm across his eyes to shield them from the morning sun. 'No more drinking. Not any time soon.' His head ached in time with every beat of his heart, a dull pounding behind his eyes. He groaned quietly, his attempt to roll onto his side stopped by a weight across his torso.
"Stop moving," Stiles grumbled sleepily, pressing his face against Derek's shirt. "It's too early to get up."
"We don't even know what time it is," he replied around a yawn, looking around his living room. "My head is killing me. I need some advil or something. And water. And coffee."
Stiles whined softly, pulling the blanket draped over them up to his chin. "But you're my pillow and I'm comfy. I don't want to move."
"And I don't want to die on my living room floor so I need to get some advil before I can go back to sleep," Derek retorted as he slowly shifted himself out from beneath Stiles. "How'd we end up on the floor anyway?"
"Your roommate's cheap-ass screw top rose, that's how," he snarked, aiming a half-hearted glare at Derek as he sat up, leaving Stiles laying on the rug.
Derek groaned again, rubbing his forehead. "I think Erica brought those, not Boyd."
"Does that make a difference?" Stiles answered, closing his eyes again. "She's here six days a week, she's basically your roommate. And she brought six bottles of that shit and we drank all of it. I don't even think that stuff is fit for human consumption; I think it fell off the back of a truck or something."
"Didn't hear you complain about it last night," he retorted as he slowly got to his feet. He swore as the pounding in his head worsened. "Where'd you get the blanket from?"
Stiles cracked his eyes open, looking at the blanket he wrapped around himself. "Dude, I don't even know," he admitted. "Probably Erica or Boyd. Whoever it is, at least they didn't let us freeze to death on the floor."
Derek grunted in agreement as he shuffled into the kitchen. The only thing he could think about was getting some water and getting back to bed. Quickly swallowing two advils, he grabbed two extra bottles of water before heading back to the living room. "Get up," he said, poking Stiles in the side with his foot.
"Dude, come on, it's too early," he whined, pulling the blanket over his head. "Just let me sleep."
"I am going to let you sleep, but not on the floor," he replied, bending down and tugging lightly at the blanket. "Come to my bed. We'll go back to sleep."
Stiles poked his head out from under the blanket, his hair in disarray. "Bed sounds good," he admitted sheepishly.
Derek stood, offering his hand. "I brought you a water," he added as he pulled Stiles to his feet.
"You're the best," Stiles mumbled, leaning into Derek's side as they shuffled down the hallway. "I'll make us pancakes later, yeah?"
"Breakfast for dinner," Derek huffed in amusement, shutting his bedroom door behind them.