[ 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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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. ]
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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-- ]
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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.