Chapter 4

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Disclaimer: I don’t own anything Teen Wolf or Teen Wolf related:(

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                                                Chapter 4

Stiles curses under his breath. The Stiles on the bed shifts in his sleep, and move his eyebrows in the way only Derek can. Stiles creeps closer to the bed, and softly calls out:

“Derek.”

It wouldn’t do to have the man- err, boy- woken up with a start; Stiles is pretty sure Derek could still kill him, even if they had appeared to have switched bodies.

“Derek,”he says again, slightly louder.

The Stiles-on-the-bed stirs, and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “5 more minutes”. Stiles feels his heart stutter at that, but he brushes it off and continues to move towards the bed.

Something inside him-probably the wolf- tells him to sit on the floor beside the bed, so as to appear as nonthreatening as possible.

“Derek, come on buddy, time to wake up now.”

Stiles hears a massive groan from the bed, and then a lot of shuffling. He finally watches the Stiles-on-the-bed sit up and scratch his back whilst yawning widely. The bed-Stiles swings his legs over the side on the bed, narrowly missing hitting the sitting-on-the-floor-Stiles’ face.

The sitting-Stiles is startled, and becomes even more surprised when Derek-Stiles pushes himself off the bed and shuffles down the hallway. But then he remembers, Derek-Stiles is human now, and Stiles can definitely relate to being so groggy that you don’t notice what’s going on around you.

Stiles hears a door open and close, and he assumes that Derek-Stiles is using the bathroom. His suspicions are confirmed when he hears a toilet seat being lifted. Stiles figures this is probably a good idea; he doesn’t want Derek-Stiles to be so surprised that he pisses himself or something.

Speaking of which, Stiles isn’t sure how comfortable he is with the idea of Derek touching his junk, even if it is with Stiles’ own hands.

But he doesn’t have enough time to dwell on it, because he hears the toilet being flushed, the sink turned on then off, and the door re-open and close. Derek-Stiles shuffles back thru his bedroom door, his mouth splitting into another huge yawn whilst he rubs his eyes. Derek-Stiles stretches, eyes still closed, and Stiles hears his bone crack, ridiculously loudly.

“Ow,” he can’t stop himself from saying.

Derek-Stiles snaps to attention at that. And Stiles is suddenly aware he is sitting, criss-cross-applesauce, by Derek-Stiles’ bed like a total creep.

“Um. Hi?”

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