"This is all your fault, you and that goddamn jeep."
Stiles huffs, pushing Derek’s body away from his in retaliation. His jeep is a gift and she should be referred to as such.
The fact that the heat’s out re-settles into his consciousness pretty quickly and he immediately pulls Derek’s body back to his. The guy’s a walking furnace, the least he could do is keep Stiles warm. Besides, it’s Derek’s fault they’re in this mess in the first place.
"I can feel you smirking, you bastard, if it weren’t for the fact that I’d probably catch frost-bite your wolfy ass would be outside fixing that goddamn jeep.”
The look Derek sends him is less than impressed, Stiles counters it with his own exact replica (when you’ve been on the receiving end of that look as much as he has it starts to stick) and a flash of panic hits him-oh god, he’s turning into Derek; they’re becoming one of those couples.
"For the love of god, would you cut it out, I can hear you thinking.”
Stiles snorts, ready to inform his boyfriend that no, he was not, thinking, he was on the verge of panicking, he was having a massive fucking melt-down.
A sigh cuts into the silence and before he knows what’s happening he’s being maneuvered into Derek’s lap, the soft fleece of his mother’s throw wrapped around them like a cocoon.
Soft lips press against his forehead and Stile’s allows himself to relax, nuzzling beneath Derek’s jaw.
So what if they’re becoming one of those couples? He gets to use Derek as his own personal (hunky) furnace, he can’t find it in himself to care about anything else.