Leave Me In Ruins

Splinter

Derek grabbed a blanket from the back of the chair to drape over a sleeping Stiles. He paused, blanket in hand.

Clenching his jaw, he tossed the blanket back onto the back of the chair. He knew this was stupid. He knew he should either leave him there or take him to the spare room, where Stiles usually stayed. However, he had already scooped Stiles into his arms.

Stiles barely stirred as Derek carried him to bed. To his bed. He laid him on the rumpled sheets and pulled the covers over him.

Stiles stirred once more, but never woke.

Derek stared down at him with a pained expression. His brows were pinched and his jaw clenched. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and wrap Stiles in his scent.

Instead, he tugged his shirt and pants off and slipped in next Stiles silently. He didn't reach for him. He didn't slide over to be close to him. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling as if the wooden beams held the answers to his problems.

All they offered were splintered edges.

Sleeping with Stiles had been like getting a splinter wedged into his heart. Instead of pulling it out like he should have, he shoved it in deeper.

He looked over at a peacefully sleeping Stiles.

He knew it was only a matter of time before it festered.

-

When Stiles woke, it was not where he'd fallen asleep. He blinked as he fought to place the blue sheets he was tangled in. Rolling over he recognized the picture of the old Hale house that sat on the wall near the bathroom. He recognized the book light that sat on the side table. He recognized the leather jacket hung on the back of the door. He was in Derek's room. He sat up to find Derek was no where in sight.

He frowned, blinking at his surroundings. He had fallen asleep on Derek's couch. He'd only wanted to rest his eyes from all the reading. Why had Derek brought him to his room? Why not the spare room?

Derek heard the sound of running water from his bathroom sink. Stiles was up. He took in a deep breath. He could do this. Just act like nothing happened. Just two friends who benefited from each other's company.

"Morning," Derek said as he poured the freshly brewed coffee into two cups.

Stiles stepped into the kitchen and inhaled deeply, "mmm, coffee," he hummed.

Derek silently poured the milk and sugar into one cup and pushed it towards Stiles.

"Thank you," Stiles grinned at Derek before pressing the cup to his lips.

Derek closed his eyes as he took in the moment, his own coffee cup clasped in his hands. He'd done this exact morning with Stiles a dozen times and yet it felt different now.

"You always get my coffee exactly how I like it," Stiles hummed into his cup.

"How'd you sleep?" Derek asked.

"In your bed apparently."

Derek's fingers gripped his coffee cup harder.

"You've complained that the spare bed is too soft," Derek lied. "Besides, it's not the first time." He hoped Stiles didn't question him further.

Stiles' eyes squinted as if trying to recall the time when he made that claim.

Derek cleared his throat. "Scott called a minute ago. Boyd and Erica met up with Deaton's contact. He gave them African dream root. They think it can..." Derek paused, trying to remember Scott's exact words.