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Stiles loves Cintron hall. It’s the oldest dorm on campus, made of sturdy, weather-worn brown brick. It’s known as the “boring” dorm, because it’s filled mainly with the nerdy and socially awkward (and the science majors, who are often both).
There are never any loud parties or fights at Cintron, but sometimes on the weekends, people hang out in the lobby and watch movies or the latest episode of Doctor Who.
And really, that’s not even the best part. Cintron hall is single rooms only. Sure, they’re smaller than usual, but Stiles considers the privacy to be worth it. The walls are really thick, so he never even hears his neighbors (and they never have to hear him).
It’s totally wonderful, and he loves it.
Except this year.
Cintron is really old, and it’s in Northern California, so there’s no air conditioning. That’s no big deal though, everyone just buys fans.
But the heating is a different story. Every room is heated with a steam radiator, whose temperature is minimally adjustable (usually stuck on something like just-opened-the-oven hot), and treats residents to a winter full of pings and pops emanating from the pipes.
But even that’s okay to deal with. You open your window for some cooler air, you play some music to ignore the noise. No big deal. Stiles has lived at Cintron for two years, he’s gotten used to it.
No, the problem is the freak cold front that rolls in Thursday night.
He wakes up at two in the morning, absolutely freezing. He gets up, turns off his fan and closes the window, then grabs an extra blanket and goes back to bed.
It doesn’t help.
He’d shivers the rest of the night, then stumbles to class on frozen feet. The relief he feels, walking into the warmth of the building, is truly incredible. He sits through his lecture and soaks it up, hoping that by the time he gets back to Cintron, the heat will be on.
Hey, he can dream.
It is Friday, however, and classes are over by noon, so he has to go back to the dorm at some point. He does linger as long as he can, though.
He makes the walk back, and he knows the situation as soon as he opens the main door: the heating still isn’t on. Its forty degrees outside, and there’s no heat. Cintron is still an icebox.
He runs upstairs and leaps into his chilly bed, shivering and hoping he’ll be able to warm up.
After another restless, achingly cold night, it occurs to him that he could just leave. Just…go somewhere else. Then he pulls up the weather information on his phone, and realizes the odds of his jeep starting in this cold are pretty low. He bundles up and goes out to check anyway.
No luck.
He shuffles back inside and into the bathroom, shivering and miserable. It’s actually a little warmer in there, thanks to the people brave enough to take showers. Stiles is already freezing cold, he really can’t imagine adding wet to that equation.
He’s shaking so bad he almost misses his toothbrush as he’s squeezing out toothpaste. He quickly brushes his teeth, then he stands at the sink and runs his hands under the warm water for a little while, savoring the feeling.
He lasts a couple more hours huddled in his room before he gives in and decides to ask for help.
And in all honestly, he wants to know if everyone else is suffering, too.
He decides to knock on Derek’s door first.
Derek is his very hot, very awesome next-door neighbor. They have their Tuesday-Thursday class at the same time, so they usually walk together, and sometimes they go to the dining hall together afterward.
So they’re probably acquaintances at best, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He can slowly feel himself turning into a popsicle, and it’s becoming unbearable.
He does a couple of quick taps on the door, hunching up his shoulders and hoping Derek’s actually here.
It only takes a moment for the door to swing open, and Stiles would swear it feels warmer. That could just be the effect of looking at Derek, though. But as Stiles takes him in, he realizes that Derek doesn’t even look cold. Sure, he’s wearing a long sleeve shirt and sweatpants, but that’s it.
Derek smirks at him, eyes lingering on the three sweatshirts and the thick wooly socks Stiles is wearing. “What’s up?” he asks, sounding amused.
“Uh, thinking about going to the store to buy a space heater,” he says, trying not to let his teeth chatter.
“They’re all out,” Derek says, shaking his head. “I checked.”
“Shit,” Stiles says, tucking his hands under his arms, shivering hard. The realization that there will be no heat in the near-future makes him feel even colder.
“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asks, suddenly looking a lot more concerned.
“Well, I can’t feel anything below my knees, but otherwise I’m great,” Stiles says, trying to sound nonchalant. He’s pretty sure he fails.
Derek’s face grows serious, and he pushes the door further open. “Come on in,” he says encouragingly.
“Do you have a heater?” Stiles asks as he shuffles in. He sure hopes so. His back is aching from shivering so much.
“No,” Derek says, pushing him toward the bed. “I have an electric blanket.” He tugs at Stiles’ sweatshirts. “Take these off and get in.”
“Dude, what?” Stiles says, covetously eyeing Derek’s bed.
“They’re just going to insulate you from the heat,” Derek explains patiently. “Take your socks off, too.”
Stiles does it, because he figures Derek knows what he’s talking about. He quickly strips off his layers, teeth chattering, then hurries over to the bed.
The feeling of sliding into the warm covers, the heat instantly soothing against his cold skin, is like getting the biggest, coziest hug ever. He makes a couple of embarrassing sounds as he tucks the blankets around himself like a cocoon, but he doesn’t care.
Derek laughs at him, but Stiles is too busy letting all his cramped muscles relax to be bothered. He lets his eyes flutter shut as he nestles his head on one of Derek’s pillows. This is the life, right here.
He never wants to leave.
He hears Derek sit at his desk, and moments later, the distinct sound of typing begins. It’s soothing, and Stiles happily wiggles his thawing toes, letting himself drift off.
*
He’s woken up sometime later with Derek leaning over him.
“Mmm?” he says muzzily. “Time for me to go?”
“You don’t have to leave,” Derek says with a little smile. “I’m just getting cold. You mind if I join you?”
“It’s your bed,” Stiles says automatically. “But, um, no I don’t mind,” he says, lifting the blankets invitingly. The beds at Cintron are full size, so it’s not like there isn’t room.
Derek slides under the covers, then settles his laptop on his legs and goes back to typing. “You know, it’s almost dinner time,” he says. “You want to get some food from the dining hall?”
“I don’t know,” Stiles sighs. “I don’t really want to eat ramen noodles, but I can’t face going out there when I have to come back to a freezing room.”
Derek gives him a long look. “I told you, I’m not kicking you out,” he says. “And when we get back, you can grab your homework so you can study without becoming a Stiles-sicle.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Stiles says, grinning.
“I thought you might come around,” Derek says. “Now put all your sweatshirts back on, so we can get going.”
*
They eat, then hurriedly return to Derek’s room. Stiles works on his Bio homework while Derek edits his English essay. Stiles lays on his stomach, blanket pulled all the way up to the top of his head, but he still shivers for a long time.
“You get cold easily, huh?” Derek says, pressing the blanket down against Stiles’ back.
It makes him sigh in relief as the heat soaks in. “Very easily,” he mumbles.
Things go well until it’s close to bedtime, and he starts to feel like he’s keeping Derek awake.
“I guess I should go,” he says, sitting up. “I can probably survive until they turn the heat on.”
Derek gives him an odd look. “You know they’re not turning it on until the thirty-first, right?”
“What?” Stiles says, his voice going embarrassingly high pitched. “But it’s only the twenty-fifth! And it’s freezing outside!”
“Stiles, you’ve lived here for years,” Derek says patiently. “You know they always start the heat on Halloween.”
“Well, yeah. But it’s never been this cold before, not this early,” he huffs. He’s been trying not to obsessively check the weather, but he’s looked enough to know it’s not getting warmer any time soon.
Derek shrugs. “I don’t know how much work it is to start up the old steam generator, but I’m guessing it’s a lot.”
“But all the other dorms have heat,” he grumbles.
“All the other dorms have double beds and paper-thin walls. You knew this building was really old when you moved in, you have to accept its quirks,” Derek says calmly.
“Easy for you to say,” Stiles grumbles, burrowing back into the covers. “You have this blanket, so you won’t be freezing for another week.”
“Stiles, I’m not kicking you out,” Derek says, exasperated.
“But, you know, I’ll be—wait, what?” Stiles says when his brain finally catches up.
“You don’t have to leave,” Derek says firmly. “If you want to stay and sleep here, you can.”
“I, um, yeah,” Stiles manages, trying not to get flustered at the thought of spending the night with Derek.
“Don’t strain yourself,” Derek says, laughing. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth, I want to go to bed soon.”
Stiles glances at the time, then raises his eyebrows. “Dude, it’s only eleven. On a Saturday night,” he says, scandalized.
“Oh, did you have big plans?” Derek asks dryly. “You do remember that you live in the boring dorm, right?”
“Well, yeah. But it’s so early.” Stiles isn’t really a partier, but he’s usually up gaming or fucking around on the internet until two or three in the morning.
“And I didn’t sleep all day, like you did,” Derek adds with a smirk.
“Fair point,” Stiles concedes. “And hey, your bed, your rules. Sleeping is like my second-favorite hobby, anyway.”
“What’s your first-favorite hobby?” Derek asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Please don’t ask me that,” Stiles says quickly, wiggling out of bed and hoping Derek doesn’t see his flush. He really does love Cintron for the privacy, you know?
“I’m gonna go get my pajamas, I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, heading for the door.
“All right,” Derek says, and Stiles can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”
*
Stiles expect to have trouble sleeping, or to find out Derek snores, or something. But, no. In fact, he only wakes up because he’s too warm, which is quite a novelty.
And he’s not just overheating because of the electric blanket.
It’s partly because he can feel Derek’s thigh pressed up against his own. Derek’s firm, muscular thigh. Which goes really well with the rest of Derek’s firm, muscular body.
He’s been trying not to think about Derek’s…everything, but it’s a little hard not to when he’s lying in the same bed with him.
So he’s mostly trying to figure out how to sneak out of here, without Derek waking up and seeing his boner. Because that would be awkward.
He pries his eyes open, deciding he may as well have a look, take things tactically.
And wow, he was not prepared for Derek in all his sleep-rumpled glory. But it’s definitely a sight he could wake up to every morning.
He lets his eyes trace over Derek’s fluffed up hair, then down to his pink cheeks, and to his soft, slightly parted lips. He’s gorgeous, and Stiles feels his breath catch in his throat. He has to fight a sudden, aching longing to roll onto his side and just snuggle up tight against Derek. He’s pretty sure Derek would be a world-class cuddler.
Instead, he takes a couple of deep breaths and stares at the ceiling for a moment. It doesn’t really help.
He’s still tenting the front of his pajama pants, and he’s still in bed with the hottest guy he knows. So he’s just going to have to get out as fast as possible. He carefully moves his pillow out of the way, then just kind of slithers off the end of the bed, grabbing on to Derek’s dresser when he starts to lose his balance.
It makes a little creaking noise, and Stiles freezes for a second in alarm, then peeks at Derek.
Still asleep.
He bolts for the door as stealthily as possible, slipping through and closing it softly behind him. The cold air of the hallway is like a slap to the face, and begins the work of wilting his erection.
It’s still an awkward walk to the bathroom, but he manages.
When he sneaks back in, he finds Derek sitting up and rubbing sleepily at his eyes.
“Sorry, did I wake you up?” he asks, feeling a pang of guilt. Maybe his stealth mode isn’t as good as he thought.
Derek startles, hunching forward a little more, his legs shifting restlessly under the blankets. “What?” he says blankly. Then, “No, it wasn’t you. I didn’t even hear you leave.”
“Okay, good,” Stiles says, relieved, and then has to muffle a yawn. “I’m gonna go take a shower, but after that, do you want to grab breakfast?”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Derek says, sleepily scratching at his cheek.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t fall back asleep,” he adds warningly. “You’ll just be grumpy.”
Derek smirks. “I suppose you’re right. I promise to be awake when you come back,” he says solemnly.
“We’ll see,” Stiles says, laughing, then makes his hasty retreat to the showers.
Because if he’s going to spend the rest of the day in bed with Derek, he’s definitely going to have to jerk off.
*
He finds himself surprised at how easy it is to be with Derek. They spend practically all their time together, in the same bed, but somehow it works. He suspects it’s mainly due to the fact that Derek is very easy going and good-natured, but still.
It’s actually really nice to have someone to talk to after class, or someone to nap with in the afternoon. He helps Derek with his homework, and he helps Stiles with his. They complain about professors and deadlines, and they eat together, too.
It’s pretty amazing, and Stiles is starting to actively dread the thirty-first.
Especially because he and Derek have started talking more after they go to bed. Somehow, everything is so much easier to say when you’re lying quietly together in the dark. They talk about their families, about their friends, about their plans for the future. They talk about relationships and sexuality and past girlfriends and boyfriends. They talk about anything that comes to mind.
It’s honestly the best part of Stiles’ day. It’s also the most difficult time to resist rolling over and snuggling up to Derek, when he’s most longing to hold him close.
It gives him a good feeling, though, to know that Derek trusts him enough to talk about the things he cares about the most.
And there’s a lot of things he wants to say to Derek, but he’s not sure he should, not yet.
He wonders if Derek thinks about him as much as he thinks about Derek.
*
So they keep with their routine, and Stiles watches as the days edge closer and closer to Halloween. He doesn’t have a costume, doesn’t have any plans or any parties he wants to go to. He just keeps thinking about Derek, and knows that soon something will have to change.
He lays on his side in the dark, facing the wall and staring blindly into the darkness, and finds he can’t resist saying something. “Heat’s coming on in two days.”
“I know,” Derek says, and he doesn’t exactly sound happy about it.
He feels Derek roll over, knows he’s on his side, too. If he were about six inches closer, they’d be spooning. For a second, he can almost feel the phantom brush of Derek’s fingers against his shoulder.
“I’m going to miss this,” he says, so quietly Stiles almost doesn’t hear it.
Stiles lets his eyes flutter shut, because yeah, he’s going to miss this, too.
“So it hasn’t bothered you?” he asks softly, trying to work up his nerve.
“What hasn’t?” Derek whispers, and it feels like he’s even closer, now.
“Sharing a bed with me this whole week,” Stiles says, hands digging into the blanket and holding tight.
“No, not at all,” Derek says, so softly. “I really loved it. It’s been good, being with you like this. It was almost like having a boyfriend,” he breathes.
Stiles tries to loosen his hold on the bedding, tries to relax his body, but he suddenly feels so full of tension that he can’t quite do it. “I could,” he whispers hopefully into the dark. “I could be your boyfriend, if you wanted.”
He feels Derek shift closer, then feels a gentle kiss to the back of his neck. “Yes,” he says against Stiles’ skin, curling his arm around his waist.
And Stiles can finally, finally, give in to his urge to lean back into Derek, to rest his whole body against him. Derek just holds him closer, fitting them perfectly together.
Stiles settles his arm over top of Derek’s, sliding his fingers between Derek’s own and holding tight.
Derek kisses him again on the neck, then on his shoulder. “Go to sleep, Stiles,” he rumbles, sounding content.
Stiles makes a little sound of agreement and lets his eyes slide shut, finally able to relax completely. They can figure everything else out in the morning, but right now, this is all that matters.