“Come on, big guy, you have to come out sooner or later,” Stiles was begging at this point. Was it ironic that the human in this situation was the one begging for attention? Probably. Will Stiles mention that to Derek? No, because he values keeping his face intact.
For all his placation and begging, all he gets is a solid huff from the wolf currently hogging all of his bedding.
He had come home like any other day, dropping his backpack with a much too heavy thud when he had found the wolf sized lump curled on his bed. He had to admit, the first few times this had happened - he cooed and ‘ahh’ed at the werewolf who had taken to finding comfort in the ode de Stilinski. Now? Not so much.
Sure, Stiles’ heart melted every time he witnessed Derek’s in full shift and tried not to break the magic of how much more tactile the man became when less hindered by his human shape. But this was the third time this week Stiles would be remaking his bed for non-jizz related reasons and that shit took effort. Not even being chased by monsters winded him quite as much as getting a fitted sheet on his mattress did.