True Mate » Sterek

Chapter 27

The weekend passes almost too quickly for Stiles, everything felt so whole when the pack was there together, especially being out with his relationship.

Despite not wanting to leave, Stiles has a doctors check-up that he can't miss. And coming home means facing the problems that lie in Beacon Hills, meaning the Alpha pack that decided to ruin everyone's summer. Though they mostly stayed in the shadows, apparently the packs sudden absence drew them out, as Deaton explained to them all.

So, there Stiles was, sprawled out in Scott's bed while Derek went to face one of them, Ethan—who wants peace. Not that any of his pack seems to share a mutual feeling. At least Issac went with him.

"When are they going to get back?" Stiles groans, rolling over so he's face down in a pillow. "Soon. It's not like you've been away from Derek that long." Stiles shoots him a glare. "Dude, you used to whine about missing Allison after being apart for like, an hour!"

"I thought you came over to play video games, not complain about your love life."

"I didn't even—you—! Just set it up," Stiles grumbles. He sits up to grab his controller, then moves to the floor.

Scott yells in protest about losing yet another game, which only makes Stiles smirk. He always beats his best friend, it's amusing, and at the same time, boring.

After a few more games, Stiles calls it off and lays back down, staring at the ceiling. It's just past midnight and he's already wore out, he wants to pass out but he'd prefer Derek be with him.

"Stiles," a voice interrupts him dozing off. He sits up and squints at the male in front of him. "Hey.." he smiles sleepily, stretching out his arms like a child. "Hey," Derek chuckles back. He pecks Stiles and pulls him up, they're at Scott's after all.

"My place or yours?"

"Yours," Stiles yawns, burying himself into the werewolf's chest. Derek hugs him back for a moment, then urges him back so they can head out. "Carry me," Stiles murmurs. "You're ridiculous." But he obliges and sweeps the teen off his feet, nodding a quick goodbye to Scott.

***

"Mm, are we here?" Stiles hums, picking his head off Derek lap. "Yes. Are you going to walk this time?"

"If I have to," Stiles mutters, crawling from the passenger seat of his Jeep. His fingers intertwine with Derek's as they make their way up to his loft.

"What're you doing?" Derek asks, watching as Stiles moves around continuously. "Getting comfy," he mumbles back. In the end, he winds up on top of Derek with his face pressed into the Hales neck.

***

"Stiles, would you get up already?" Derek says annoyed, he's been pestering the teen for the past three hours. "What? Why?" He grumbles back. "Because it's one in the afternoon."

"It's what? Are you kidding me? Why didn't you get me up sooner?" Stiles exclaims, now sitting up and fumbling around for his phone. Derek grins and shakes his phone, which he lazily placed on the countertop last night.

"Thanks," Stiles mumbles after Derek hands it to him. He reads through a few messages, including four from his dad earlier this morning. "Why are you so tired?" Derek questions, sitting down next to the human. Usually he gets five to six hours and is ready to go, but he just slept twelve hours and looks as if he could go back to bed. Stiles rubs his face and shakes his head, "I don't know. I think it's this new medication the doctor has me on."

"It's effecting you, Stiles. Maybe you should go back and tell your doctor," Derek suggest, but he's genuinely concerned and would prefer he went sooner rather than later. "Maybe. Medication can take awhile to adjust to, and some make you drowsy," Stiles shrugs, "I'll just stay on it for awhile." Derek sighs but nods, he can't tell Stiles what to do, and he's probably right. Though Derek prefers Stiles not all drugged out, but whatever he wants. "Okay," Derek kisses his forehead and gets up.

"Wait," Stiles calls after him. Derek looks over his shoulder curiously. "Come back and lay with me." He pats the mattress next to him with a sleepy smile. "Stiles—" he goes to protest. "Please," he sticks out his bottom lip and gives his best puppy eyes. "Fine, but not for long." Reluctantly, Derek climbs back into bed and is immediately greeted with the warmth of Stiles. He throws an arm and leg over Derek's body and places his cheek onto his bare chest.

So Derek lays there while Stiles' breathes even out, and the werewolf can't help but think, Stiles has me so wrapped around his finger...I don't know how I'd even begin to unwind myself.

***

Derek holds the ringing phone from his body, as if the sheriff can sense him on the other side somehow. "Stiles," Derek hisses, "Wake up and answer your phone before your dad sends the whole department after you and has me arrested for kidnapping!" The teenager doesn't wake up and the call stops, only to begin again.

Derek glances between Stiles and the buzzing phone, and with a great reluctance, presses the green button. "Sheriff Stilinski...it's Derek." There's an uncomfortable pause, where Derek can hear the nearly inaudible growl of protest. "Where's Stiles?" He deadpans. "Sleeping, sir," he responds quickly, cringing silently at himself. Being a boyfriend is already new territory, having awkward conversations with said boyfriends dad...even further from Derek's comfort zone.

"Wake him up."

Derek mutes the call and shouts angrily until Stiles is sitting upright, rubbing at his eyes. Derek then holds his phone out, which Stiles snatches and presses to his ear. "What?" He snarls. "Your tone, Stiles, watch it."

Stiles straighten up, despite his dad not being able to see him. "Sorry, dad," Stiles apologizes, "I thought you were Scott."

"Are you going to tell me why didn't come home last night. And why you haven't answered any of my messages?"

"I've been sleeping. New medication, remember? Yeah, it's making me super tired all of the time and Derek suggested that I talk to my doctor about it and maybe he's right but..." Stiles rants quickly, ruffling the back of his hair. "Home. Now."

"Okay. I'll see you in twenty," Stiles mumbles before hanging up. He gives Derek a guilty look. "Come on," Derek sighs, "I'll drive you."

"You don't have to, Der."

"I'm not letting you drive home," Derek states. If Stiles can sleep for almost sixteen hours straight, there's no way he's letting Stiles drive a vehicle.

After settling in the passenger seat, Stiles drifts in and out the entire way home, and he couldn't be more grateful for Derek insisting to drive him.

Before he knows it, they're pulling up his house. He no more than grumbles a greeting to his father and heads up to his bedroom, where he flops onto his bed.

***

Noah sighs, rubbing down his face in distress. It's ten at night, someone is pounding on his front door, and his current case has lead to multiple dead ends. Staring at the photo evidence all day hasn't brought anything insightful.

He swings open the door, not quite ready for what he's sees. His sons mauled boyfriend, leaning on his porch nearly unconscious.

"Sti—Stiles. I need—I need, Stiles," Derek hardly manages to say before he passes out, landing just inside the Stilinski's household.

"Ah, crap."