The nightmares never really stopped for Stiles, he just got better at hiding them. At least he was until Derek came back into his life, and more specifically, came into his bed.
No matter how quiet Stiles was when he had nightmares, no matter how even he kept his heart rate, Derek always knew. But here’s the thing, Stiles always knew when Derek was having a nightmare too. Even if Derek was paralyzed with fear, the smell of long gone smoke in his nose, even without werewolf powers, Stiles knew.
It took years for the nightmares to pass for both of them. It took therapy and time, it took holding each other until the sun came up, but they both got through it. And sometimes the nightmares still came, but they always had each other.
“Let’s leave Beacon Hills,” Derek said in the early hours of one morning, the sun still not risen, his legs tangled up with Stiles’ and his hand resting on his hip, “Let’s go see the world.”
Stiles blinked at him sleepily, sleep in the corner of his eyes, “Where to first?”
Derek’s face split into a wide smile, the kind that still dazzled Stiles even after years of being together. “We could visit Cora in Argentina,” He said after a pause, “Then Isaac in France.”
“Okay,” Stiles said, leaning up to face Derek so he could kiss him lightly on the lips. “Anywhere you want to go, I’ll go with you.”
“Of course you will, we’re married and you love me,” Derek said with a small laugh, his breath puffing across Stiles’ face as he did.
“Shh back to sleep now, we can plan in the morning,” Stiles muttered, nuzzling into Derek’s chest and throwing his arm over his waist. Derek pulled him closer and let his eyes slip shut. Both of them hand only good dreams.