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It’s a good three weeks after the Nogitsune fiasco that Scott and Stiles finally catch some much-needed rest. It’s eleven at night, they’re in Scott’s bed, and the boys are spooning each other under three heavy blankets.
It’s summertime and probably eighty degrees in Scott’s room, but Stiles is shivering. Ever since he got back (as the boys have started calling it) he complains about being cold. He wears layers and hoodies no matter the weather, but Stiles still can’t seem to shake the icy grip. His skin is warm, Scott notices, and there’s nothing wrong with his temperature. Perhaps it’s psychosomatic.
He still hasn’t recovered from the whole ordeal, not completely. He’s doing well though, or at least as well as he can be. He cracks jokes at school, plays video games with Scott, hangs out with the others as usual, still there’s something about him that’s different. Stiles isn’t the same, and he probably won’t be for a long time. Scott’s not sure anyone can really bounce back from an ancient, evil fox spirit possessing their body, forcing them hurt their friends, to kill people.
Scott shudders at the feeling of a phantom blade stuck in his gut, at the look on the Nogitsune’s face as it forced its way into his mind, taking more than just Scott’s pain. He shuts his eyes tight, willing himself to forget, for Stiles’ sake. He doesn’t want to wake his best friend up, doesn’t want to ruin the chance of him getting a decent night’s rest. So he lays there, under the blankets in the sweltering heat, listening to the steady sound of Stiles’ breathing.
He’s about to nod off when Stiles’ breath catches in his throat and he twitches violently, elbowing Scott in the stomach. Scott rears back, startled, and in a matter of seconds both boys are very alert, and very awake. Stiles sits up straight, staring at his hands in the dark unblinking. Scott watches as his mouth moves silently; he’s counting his fingers again. Scott’s not sure what to do so he sits there quietly until Stiles is sure he’s not dreaming.
“You okay?” Scott asks finally, his voice soft. Stiles nods.
“I think so,” he answers. He looks around the room, eyes the clock. Stiles sighs when he sees the time.“Sorry.” It’s only been about 45 minutes since they laid down.
Scott shakes his head adamantly, “It’s okay,” he reassures Stiles, who’s looking at him uncertainly. “We should go back to sleep if you’re fine.” Scott’s tired, so damn tired, and he knows Stiles must be too. They need rest after everything’s that happened. They need time to mend, to heal. He’s not so worried about himself, but Scott will take every opportunity to ensure that Stiles recovers as best he can.
Stiles is still looking at him with that same lost expression. “Dunno if I can,” he admits, wringing his hands together. He has dark shadows under his eyes and a hollowness to his face that Scott’s never seen on him before. He lost a lot of weight when the Nogitsune was possessing him and Scott assumes Stiles hasn’t really had the opportunity to gain much back since. His cheekbones are prominent, his jaw taut against pale, waxy skin. He looks exhausted.
“Hey,” Scott whispers and places a hand over Stiles’, holding his fists in his own. “You need rest.” Scott’s looking into Stiles’ eyes. “It’ll be okay, I’m here. I’ll wake you up if you have a nightmare.” He’s pulling Stiles’ back into bed now, and the other boy moves obediently along with him. His back hits the pillow and Scott tugs the blankets over his body, moves closer so that their thighs brush. Scott breathes softly, tickling the hairs on Stiles’ neck. “Is this okay?” he asks and Stiles nods, humming.
Scott nuzzles his cheek into Stiles’ shoulder, ignoring how bony he is for the moment. He can convince Stiles to eat something in the morning, but right now it’s not his main concern. Right now he needs for Stiles to get a good night’s sleep.
He brushes a thumb against the other boy’s stomach, rubs circles into the fabric of his shirt until he starts to drift off again. Eventually he hears Stiles’ heartbeat slow, his breath even out. He’s not shivering anymore, with the added benefit of a superheated alpha cuddling him. He’s calmer with Scott next to him, he realizes.
Scott supposes he’s calmer with Stiles beside him, too. The real Stiles, not the monster that possessed him. Scott’s set aside his nightmarish memories of the Nogitsune, separated the two in his mind. There’s nothing more comforting to Scott than knowing Stiles is next to him safe, breathing, alive .
He hugs Stiles just a little bit closer, presses his lips to the pale skin of his shoulder. It’s not a kiss, but it is a promise. Scott’s never going to let him go again.
Scott falls asleep to the sound of their heartbeats.
---
When Scott wakes up he can’t feel his arm. It’s pinned under Stiles, he realizes belatedly, sleep clouding his mind. The sun is casting warm rays through the window, but Scott can tell it’s still early. Stiles snores quietly next to him, his back facing Scott, latched onto the hand he’s got trapped under his body.
Scott leans into his pillow and listens to the steady heartbeat of his best friend. He already knows he’s not going to go back to sleep, and he’s willing to sacrifice a bit of comfort if it means Stiles gets extra time to rest.
Thankfully Scott doesn’t have to wait long.
He knows Stiles is awake before his eyes even open from the jump of his heart rate. This morning is different from others in the past, and Stiles wakes without much of a fuss. His eyes flutter open then squeeze shut again at the sun’s brightness. He stretches, first his arms, then his legs and then his whole body. He must not notice Scott is awake, because when he rolls over onto his back he stares without words at the ceiling, blinking blearily and giving a yawn.
Stiles lays there and Scott watches the rise and fall of his chest. Feeling is returning to Scott’s arm, pins and needles shooting up its length as Stiles shifts around. Scott grunts and Stiles jolts, surprised, his eyes darting to Scott. Immediately he relaxes.
“Oh, hey.” His voice is hoarse from sleep. Scott smiles.
“Morning.”
Stiles yawns into his fist, “How long have you been up?”
Scott shrugs. “A few minutes, I guess.” He glances at the clock. It’s just past seven, which means they got about 6 good hours of sleep last night. He’s somewhat pleased, because it’s more than they usually get, but it’s still not really enough. Scott thinks they probably need to sleep for a week to catch up.
Stiles hums thoughtfully. Scott’s arm is really numb now, but in a static-y way that feels kind of like sand underneath his skin. He wiggles it. Ouch.
“Move, my arm is asleep,” he mumbles, shoving Stiles away and bringing his arm to his chest. Stiles yields, rolling to the corner of the bed. He fixes Scott with a half-hearted glare.
“Yeah, well you’re taking up the whole bed,” Stiles shoots back, and he’s right. Scott is lying in the middle of his bed, most of the sheets bunched around his waist.
“My bad,” Scott says with a meek grin, scooting over so that Stiles can have room. Stiles moves with Scott and the two end up cramped together in the center, sharing a pillow. There’s plenty of space on either of them. “Are you cold?” Scott asks, pulling the blankets over Stiles.
Stiles shakes his head. “Not really,” he murmurs. Still he doesn’t move away or resist as Scott reaches around his body to pull the sheets tighter. His fingers twitch towards Scott’s arm, as if trying to hold him there, but stops himself.
Scott gets the message. He wraps himself around Stiles, pulling him close to his chest. Their legs are tangled together now. Scott can feel Stiles sag against him, relieved and definitely glad that he didn’t have to ask Scott for this himself.
While it’s therapeutic for Stiles, Scott doesn’t really have a reason why he loves cuddling up close to his best friend, loves having him so near. He presses his nose against Stiles’ hair, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. It’s actually his shampoo, because Stiles showered at his house the night before. Scott likes that Stiles kind of smells like him because of it.
He’s so immersed in Stiles’ scent that Scott doesn’t even realize the other boy shifting uncomfortably beside him. It’s quiet for another few moments before Stiles speaks up.
“Dude, your knee is up my ass.”
Oh. Scott blushes and moves his leg. “Sorry.” He stays where he is though, for the most part. Stiles has got a hand around his fingers holding Scott in place.
“Thanks, though.” Stiles’ voice is hesitant, like he doesn’t know if he wants to elaborate or not. He doesn’t have to, because Scott knows what he means.
‘Thank you for staying with me after all the shit we’ve been through.
Thank you for helping me through all this.
Thank you for being my friend.’
“No problem,” Scott says, and that’s that. There’s no need to say more, not between the two of them.
Stiles sighs, content, and relaxes. Scott thinks he’s fallen back asleep and he settles down to do the same when he hears a loud gurgle come from Stiles’ stomach.
He raises a brow. “Seriously?”
Stiles moans, rubbing his stomach. “ Yes . I’m so hungry.”
Stiles gets up, much to Scott’s dismay, because he was getting pretty comfortable. Scott sits up in bed and stretches, watches as Stiles puts on his lacrosse hoodie.
“You got Lucky Charms?” Stiles asks.
“Of course,” Scott replies, and Stiles is already out the door.
Scott laughs to himself as he gets out of bed and pulls on a shirt, headed downstairs to hopefully get himself a bowl before Stiles eats all of the cereal.
As he runs down the steps, he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. Things finally seem to be getting back to normal. Scott thinks for the first time that, maybe, things are going to be okay.