Love you too, big guy. [ It comes out muffled, and he gives his shoulders a squeeze from where he's still holding on tight, like Derek is his anchor and his lifeline, because he is. He has been for a long, long time now.
Stiles turns his cheek and presses a kiss to his neck, where a little mark is still there, admiring his handiwork. For all the bruises and pain Derek's been through lately, he likes this one the best--it's his, a mark caused by something good instead of pain and agony. His smile goes a little lazy, even as he makes a face and shoves at his face a little lightly when his beard scrapes against overheated, sensitive skin. ] Jesus, you got hairier, dude. Like, this mountain man life is really suiting you.
[ Mouth curling in a smile, he keeps his arms secure around Stiles as they lay there in their tangle of limbs and bodies. They really ought to clean up, at least a little, but right now he's not in any real hurry to move. Not when he has this, not when he has his anchor back. Some agents slip away from their humanity, turn to machines. He was on that path for some time, but then Stiles came along.
Gave him something again.
A small, content noise leaves him at the kiss to his neck, instead of tension filling him again. But it turns into a laugh as he pushes at his face, head lolling a little so that his cheek rests against his shoulder briefly. Deciding to shift, he squeezes his arms a little more securely and tips his weight lazily, rolling them over so that Stiles is on top of him. It's friction that sensitive skin doesn't need right now, and gets a small hiss out of him, but then he just settles back and looks up at Stiles. ]
Shaving took too much energy to keep on top of it every day.
Aaaahh--jesus. We'll work on that. [ Talk about sensitive. Stiles goes when rolled and only makes a noise that's slightly whiny when he brushes up in all the right-slash-wrong places, but immediately gets resettled, resting his palms on his chest and putting his chin on top of his hands so he can peer down at him from him like a comfortable cat, obviously pleased with his useful position.
This is kind of perfect. A squint to the clock reveals the time around four in the morning, and it makes a long, lazy smile curl across his face as he tilts his head into his hand a little, watching him with bright eyes, and singing quietly. ] Alllll night loong--all night.
[ A sound of agreement leaves him, but he gets comfortable once everything has stopped setting sparks to his skin. The familiar weight of Stiles against his chest causes him to relax further, and he laces his fingers together at the small of his back as he looks up at him without much concern, and so much affection that it aches in his chest. ] Will we?
[ Derek doesn't bother looking at the clock, clear green eyes trailing across Stiles' face in the faint light of pre-dawn, taking in the lazy smile and the brightness to amber eyes. Everything he's seen before, but adores more and more every time he sees it. Laughing softly at his sing-song, he slides his hand up the line of his spine. ] No, Stiles.
[ God he's tired. It's been a long day in every sense of the word, but his cheeks are hurting from the smile that feels like it's been attached to his face since--well, since he finished yelling at him for almost dying. Derek's alive, and it feels like Stiles' world has slowly come back to its normal tilt.
He mumbles something else about going all night long, but it kind of seems like gibberish. Stiles tucks his cheek under Derek's chin, tufts of his hair just brushing against his throat, and throws an arm across his chest, sprawling in that little space like it's his home.
He more or less passes out asleep mid sentence, mouth still open, and the only warning is a soft, faint snore. ]
[ Stiles falling asleep on top of him doesn't surprise him in the least. They're on top of the covers, still sort of gross but for the most part comfortable, and Derek is perfectly content. His cheeks hurt from smiling, something he hasn't done much of since the failure of a mission, and he spends a couple minutes just stroking his knuckles up and down his back as he hears the faint snore.
He only gets those when Stiles is particularly worn out. It's a testament to just how exhausted he must be, between the past month apart and the night spent on their reunion.
Taking care of him-- shifting just enough that he won't wake Stiles so that he can take the topmost sheet and clean them up a little better, dragging the sheet beneath it up and over his quartermaster's back-- he pauses before he really gets settled to join him. And he wants to, badly, the pull of sleep dragging him under despite his movements.
Derek regards him thoughtfully, before reaching for the nightstand and nudging open the top drawer, reaching in for a velvet box that saved his life. Thumbing at the bullet hole, he flips it open and withdraws the ring. It's a little cliche, slipping it onto Stiles' ring finger to surprise him in the morning with, but it makes something warm spread even further through his ribs as he tucks his nose in his hair, closing his eyes and finally finding a quiet night's rest. ]
[ It ends up that Stiles rolls off of him in the middle of the night-slash-morning, but he repositions himself almost immediately, tucking his head against Derek's shoulder and resting his hand on his chest, fists curled just a little against his bare chest.
But he sleeps like an absolute rock, and he wakes up around two in the afternoon. The sun's shining through the windows and right in his face, and he winces a little as he cracks open brown eyes and stares blearily into it. It takes a couple of minutes to properly recall what happened the day before, and a slow, lazy smile curls across his face as he pushes himself up on his palms, looking down at Derek underneath him. He's really not there mentally for a few minutes, as he lays back down and gets comfortable in the space he'd been inhabiting before, and Stiles blinks a couple of times, trying to readjust, and stretches his arm across Derek's chest.
And that's when the light catches on something shiny on his hand. His brow crinkles and he stares at it, brings it closer to his face.
And then he yelps-- ] Oh my god?!
[ Was that all a crazy dream?! Did he get married in his sleep last night?! Stiles is not awake enough for this, holy jesus. Maybe he just--no, no, they stopped faking it like a year ago, that's impossible, unless there was some other fake-married mission but they aren't supposed to be even bothered by headquarters right now-- ]
[ The fact that Derek sleeps for a solid ten hours, at least, is amazing. Even when he was in drug-induced dozes, he never slept more than six hours, maybe. And even then, it wasn't really rest. It was just him trying to recover, pushing past dark images and feeling the loss of Stiles in his bed like he'd been truly torn from him. (Though, in a way, he had been.)
When Stiles does finally stir, it barely nudges him at first. He's used to Stiles moving around, even with a month apart, that so long as he's not leaving the bed it doesn't really register with him. But enough movement has him stirring a little more, and he stretches his legs out, arm hooked around Stiles' waist comfortably. The corner of his mouth twitches a little as he feels him pushes himself up, but he still doesn't open his eyes as he simply lays there.
It's when he yelps that he actually wakes up, jolting a little and blinking sleep from his eyes to look down at him.
And then he sees what he's freaking out about, and lets out a small huff of a laugh. Voice throaty from deep sleep as he murmurs at him, he rubs his thumb against the small of his back, dropping his head into his pillow again. ] I didn't want to wait six months.
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Stiles turns his cheek and presses a kiss to his neck, where a little mark is still there, admiring his handiwork. For all the bruises and pain Derek's been through lately, he likes this one the best--it's his, a mark caused by something good instead of pain and agony. His smile goes a little lazy, even as he makes a face and shoves at his face a little lightly when his beard scrapes against overheated, sensitive skin. ] Jesus, you got hairier, dude. Like, this mountain man life is really suiting you.
no subject
Gave him something again.
A small, content noise leaves him at the kiss to his neck, instead of tension filling him again. But it turns into a laugh as he pushes at his face, head lolling a little so that his cheek rests against his shoulder briefly. Deciding to shift, he squeezes his arms a little more securely and tips his weight lazily, rolling them over so that Stiles is on top of him. It's friction that sensitive skin doesn't need right now, and gets a small hiss out of him, but then he just settles back and looks up at Stiles. ]
Shaving took too much energy to keep on top of it every day.
no subject
This is kind of perfect. A squint to the clock reveals the time around four in the morning, and it makes a long, lazy smile curl across his face as he tilts his head into his hand a little, watching him with bright eyes, and singing quietly. ] Alllll night loong--all night.
no subject
[ Derek doesn't bother looking at the clock, clear green eyes trailing across Stiles' face in the faint light of pre-dawn, taking in the lazy smile and the brightness to amber eyes. Everything he's seen before, but adores more and more every time he sees it. Laughing softly at his sing-song, he slides his hand up the line of his spine. ] No, Stiles.
no subject
He mumbles something else about going all night long, but it kind of seems like gibberish. Stiles tucks his cheek under Derek's chin, tufts of his hair just brushing against his throat, and throws an arm across his chest, sprawling in that little space like it's his home.
He more or less passes out asleep mid sentence, mouth still open, and the only warning is a soft, faint snore. ]
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He only gets those when Stiles is particularly worn out. It's a testament to just how exhausted he must be, between the past month apart and the night spent on their reunion.
Taking care of him-- shifting just enough that he won't wake Stiles so that he can take the topmost sheet and clean them up a little better, dragging the sheet beneath it up and over his quartermaster's back-- he pauses before he really gets settled to join him. And he wants to, badly, the pull of sleep dragging him under despite his movements.
Derek regards him thoughtfully, before reaching for the nightstand and nudging open the top drawer, reaching in for a velvet box that saved his life. Thumbing at the bullet hole, he flips it open and withdraws the ring. It's a little cliche, slipping it onto Stiles' ring finger to surprise him in the morning with, but it makes something warm spread even further through his ribs as he tucks his nose in his hair, closing his eyes and finally finding a quiet night's rest. ]
no subject
But he sleeps like an absolute rock, and he wakes up around two in the afternoon. The sun's shining through the windows and right in his face, and he winces a little as he cracks open brown eyes and stares blearily into it. It takes a couple of minutes to properly recall what happened the day before, and a slow, lazy smile curls across his face as he pushes himself up on his palms, looking down at Derek underneath him. He's really not there mentally for a few minutes, as he lays back down and gets comfortable in the space he'd been inhabiting before, and Stiles blinks a couple of times, trying to readjust, and stretches his arm across Derek's chest.
And that's when the light catches on something shiny on his hand. His brow crinkles and he stares at it, brings it closer to his face.
And then he yelps-- ] Oh my god?!
[ Was that all a crazy dream?! Did he get married in his sleep last night?! Stiles is not awake enough for this, holy jesus. Maybe he just--no, no, they stopped faking it like a year ago, that's impossible, unless there was some other fake-married mission but they aren't supposed to be even bothered by headquarters right now-- ]
no subject
When Stiles does finally stir, it barely nudges him at first. He's used to Stiles moving around, even with a month apart, that so long as he's not leaving the bed it doesn't really register with him. But enough movement has him stirring a little more, and he stretches his legs out, arm hooked around Stiles' waist comfortably. The corner of his mouth twitches a little as he feels him pushes himself up, but he still doesn't open his eyes as he simply lays there.
It's when he yelps that he actually wakes up, jolting a little and blinking sleep from his eyes to look down at him.
And then he sees what he's freaking out about, and lets out a small huff of a laugh. Voice throaty from deep sleep as he murmurs at him, he rubs his thumb against the small of his back, dropping his head into his pillow again. ] I didn't want to wait six months.