Out Of Milk

13

Derek had left them in the living room, all of them squeezed onto the sofa in a mass of arms and legs – drunkenly giggling and still high from their run.

Stiles felt drunk, totally woozy and unable to form words properly, which everyone around him thought was beyond hilarious. He could here Derek in the kitchen, still see the powered smell of red and gold where he had been standing, confused with the mass of smells from the pack climbing over him. Isaac and Jackson were taking turns to sniff the inside of his neck, Stiles too far gone on the scents and smells around him to care much, even when Jackson actually licked him.

"Gross." Was all he managed – and the next thing he knew, he was being lifted off the sofa by his shoulders.

"Will you knock it off!" Derek snapped, setting Stiles on his feet.

"I don't mind." Stiles swayed, Derek grabbing his arms to stop him from falling over.

"Scott, call for Pizza or something," Derek said, holding Stiles upright. "I'll be right back." The Alpha turned Stiles toward the door and frogmarched him upstairs.

Once in his room, Stiles bellyflopped on the bed, sending puffs of colourd smoke and smells forming around his head. He giggled.

"You are drunk." Derek said, grabbing his leg as he lay on his face, and pulling off his shoe.

"I'm so happy." Stiles slurred. "Got to run with my pack."

"Yes, you did." Derek agreed, pulling the other shoe off. "But now you're going to sleep."

"Can sleep in my clothes." Stiles mumbled into the pillow. "They're all muddy."

"It'll do for now." Derek said, and Stiles heard his bedroom door shut with a click before falling into an exhausted sleep.

Stiles woke up with a jolt. The house was totally quiet – too quite – he panicked. He was fully clothed, in his room, but couldn't remember why – or how – he was there. His thoughts were jumbled, messy – his heart beating so loudly he felt as though it could jump from his chest.

He slid from the bed, but his legs were too weak to hold his weight and he crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll, the air leaving his lungs in one breath. Over the sound of his heart, he heard his room door fly open, and strong arms picking him up off the floor.

"Stiles!" Derek said, and Stiles felt himself go limp with relief. If Derek was here, then it was going to be okay.

"What happened?" He whispered, grabbing at Derek's arms to stop him from collapsing again.

"Nothing." Derek was saying, putting him on the bed. "Nothing. Everything is fine."

"Where is everyone?"

"Asleep. In the living room." Derek answered, voice low. "You stay right here. I'll be right back." He pulled away, Stiles sitting on the bed, swayed slightly at the loss of the hands holding him in place. His eye sight had adjusted to the darkness of the room, and he could make out the shapes and comforting familiarity of his surroundings. His heart started to beat normally again. Derek was gone no longer than 5 minutes, padding back through the bedroom in the darkness with a mug of tea. Stiles held out his hands and took it from him, trying to avoid thinking about the fact that Derek was wearing only a pair of tight black boxers. He took a sip, which burned the inside of his mouth, but almost instantly made him feel better.