On moving-in day, emotions are high, as is the radio, and
mostly everyone is sweating and/or in some kind of state of undress. Nursey,
who falls into both categories, as he is glistening and smelly as well as shirtless,
is busy carrying boxes up and down the Haus stairs. Having already transferred
all of Lardo’s stuff into the moving truck that is taking her, Holster’s, and
Ransom’s stuff to their newly leased apartment in Boston, Nursey is now
transferring his own things from the carts the that he and Dex borrowed from
Faber that are traditionally used for moving around large amounts of equipment
to his and Dex’s new room.
His and Dex’s. It’s stupid, but there’s a little
fluttering, not unlike the butterflies that Nursey finds to cliché to
reference, in the middle of his chest at the thought of theirs. Even if it’s a shared room. Even if it’s a forcibly shared
room. Nursey, who is now painfully familiar with the tango of unrequited love,
takes what he can get.
He sets down the newest box next to a couple of other ones
on the desk that Shitty left, Lardo kept, and is no handed down to Dex and
Nursey. They managed a pretty good set up, considering that the room really is
meant for only one person. One bed, which Shitty had pushed up against the
right-hand corner when you first enter the room, has been put back from where
Lardo had it up against the wall of windows. It’s a raised bed, the same one
Shitty used, and it had been salvaged from the basement and cleaned and checked
thoroughly for weaknesses prior to being installed by Dex. Where the closet
used to be, but now is just an alcove-type thing due to a mishap with a
sledgehammer in Johnson’s frog year, houses the other bed. That bed takes up
the entire space of the alcove and is a cozy place to study. Nursey got dibs on
that one, simply because he and Dex decided that a drunk, clumsy Nursey would
never be able to get up the ladder to the raised bed. A desk is shoved next to
Dex’s bed and a dresser and a clothes rack have been squeezed in to make room
for their clothes.
Dex says that he’ll put up some shelves for their stuff in
the fall, but he wants to wait until he can get back home to get the wood. One
of his uncles runs a lumber yard and will give him a discount on planks, and
his part-time job at a hardware store up in Maine has an employee discount on
the various hardware that he needs (Nursey stopped listening after Dex started
mumbling to himself about bolt sizes. It was easier just to watch his lips move
It’s a good set up and they won’t be on top of each other
if they’re both in here at once. They’ll probably survive. They might even be
able to manage a few good memories. Nursey’s eyes catch on the slit in the
flooring, where a quarter rolled itself not three months earlier, and his
subconscious starts spewing musings of fate. His lips quirk into an unbidden
smile, just like they had that day. No, he hadn’t been able to conceal his
excitement at the thought of sharing a room with Dex. He had been incredibly disappointed
to learn that Ollie and Wicks had gotten the attic, and not just because that
had meant, at the time, that he and Dex would have to fight over Lardo’s dibs.
“Nursey, honey, come downstairs!” Bitty calls. Nursey
shakes himself and follows the voice down to the kitchen, where most of the
SMH, plus a few more, are congregating over an apple pie alamode because it is
fucking hot. Caitlin came over to
help move them in, so she and Chowder are sharing a piece of pie- fine, Nursey thinks, but doesn’t say.
The season’s over; no more fines. Dex had gotten his dryer back in February and
everything Valentine’s Day entailed. Nursey had spent his birthday fining the
team right along with Dex, and then they watched Monty Python movies and ate
the birthday pie Bitty had made Nursey together on the couch. Nursey considered
it to be one of the best birthdays he’d ever had.
Aside from Chowder and Caitlin, most of the SMH couples
were present as well; Jack and Bitty, Lardo and Shitty, Ollie and Wicks, Ransom
and Holster (who weren’t dating, but everyone considered them a couple), and
Ford and her most recent drama girlfriend. Sadly, none of these girlfriends
stuck long. As well as the couples, Johnson had also come back to visit, and
Tango, Whiskey, and Whiskey’s lax bro friend, Baby Chad (who everyone had
agreed was kind of alright) were there to help move as well. It was a big job;
clearing out Lardo’s room and the attic and then moving all of the new tenants’
stuff in. Nursey’s stuff had taken the longest, boxes and boxes of books, so he’d
been left to finish up his own stuff alone as the rest of the guys set up the
stuff for a picnic.
Dex slides into place next to Nursey, offering him one of
the pink hard lemonades that Bitty had gotten everyone addicted to. Nursey
takes it with a small smile and marvels a bit at the similarities between the
color of the drink and Dex’s skin in the almost-summer heat.
“I have to set up some shelves and we’ll definitely need
more space for all your fancy hipster clothes, but I think it’ll be okay,” Dex
says, eyebrows pulling together seriously before smoothing out as he finishes the
sentence, offering Nursey a small smile.
“Hmm, yeah.” Nursey takes a sip of lemonade. He glances at
Dex and grins. “It might not suck.”
“Of course, you will have to keep your books from getting
underfoot,” Dex says, the tone he uses for their banter tinging his words
“And if I step on some kind of hardware thing, I’ll wake
you up with a bucket of water.” Nursey nods seriously. Dex nods back.
“Of course.” He takes a sip of his own drink. “And if you
try to talk to me while I’m tweaking over school work, I’ll put a live lobster
in your bed.”
Nursey can’t help but laugh at that one after all the
references to lobsters that he’s made Dex endure over the past two years. Dex
smiles back, arm paused halfway through the motion of bringing up the lip of
his bottle to his mouth, and it’s such a good look on him that Nursey can’t
help but sigh through his nose.
“Look!” Chowder cheers, smiling brightly and a little too
much- he’s probably hit the hard lemonade too. “ They’re getting along!”
The rest of the group laughs as Dex says, “Don’t get used
bet this’ll be the last time they get along until graduation,” Holster says,
grinning happily even though his cheeks are tear stained from earlier.
flips him off good-naturedly. Then he rolls his eyes, sharing it with Nursey,
as if to say, they’re ridiculous.
Then he grins, a bit of mischief in his eye, and Nursey takes this to mean, let’s prove them wrong.
“Maybe Void is your wolf, and the thing that pulls you back… that’s your anchor. It’s not exactly the same, but it’s not as different as you’re making it sound, either. It is you, a part of you, like the wolf’s a part of me. And I’ll help you focus it, help you control it and harness it.
“But if you’re looking for someone to judge or punish you for it… I’m not going to.”
April 29: Derek Mears is 45 today. He’s best known to horror fans for playing Jason Voorhees in Friday the 13th (2009).
Mears’ other credits include Predators, The Hills Have Eyes II, Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters, Cursed, Men in Black II, Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters, Sleepy Hollow, Hatchet III, Dead Snow 2: Red vs. Dead, and Holliston.
Dex drops to his knees. “This cannot be happening.” Dimly, in the background noise of the utter ruin of his whole entire life he hears Nursey says, “Chill.”
“King Solomon himself could not have come up with a solution more wise,” Bitty says.
Dex wants to die right now. Just sink through the floorboards and expire. Sharing Lardo’s room with Derek Nurse. Seeing sleepy Derek Nurse with morning scruff and tired eyes, electric Derek Nurse hunched over his poetry notebook. Shit. Fuck. Shit.
“Don’t worry,” Nurse says. “I give it until September before you move out. Maybe October.”
Dex grinds his teeth.
“Chill,” Derek says again, and Chowder pokes his head into the room.
The early morning sun broke through a crack in the bedroom curtains casting a thin shaft of bright light across the room gently illuminating the face of a deeply slumbering Derek. Stiles had been awake for a while, laid on his side watching Derek as he slept, following the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath. His right hand had been resting on Derek’s chest when he woke up and he hadn’t felt any need to move it. The wolf’s heart beat slow and rhythmical yet strong against the palm of his hand. Everything about Derek was calm except for his face, even in deep sleep his face retained a certain stern and serious quality to it that made Stiles smile.
Stiles traced his middle finger softly over Derek’s chest weaving through the dark hairs twisting them around his finger while trying his best not to wake him. He stopped twiddling Derek’s chest hair and rolled over to his own side of the bed sighing audibly as he did. Knotting his fingers behind his head his lay there trying to stop himself from thinking about what he knew would ultimately worm its way in to his mind. But trying not to think about something only makes you think about it more and it wasn’t long before it was infecting his mind again. He grabbed handfuls of hair and squeezed tightly, screwing his eyes shut, trying to force the though away from him. I shouldn’t be thinking this, he’d been telling himself for weeks he had no reason to worry about it. And yet, here he was again on a perfect California summer morning letting his doubts poison his mind.
“What’s wrong?” Derek sleepy voice sounded cracked and dry as he spoke. Stiles jumped a little thinking Derek had been sound asleep.
“Nothing.” Stiles tried to sound casual, failed miserably.
“Stiles.” Derek could convey a thousand different thoughts and emotions simply by the way he said his name. And right now he was saying he knew something was wrong. Just don’t turn and look at me Stiles thought to himself, I can try and lie and stay calm just as long you’re not looking at me. Stiles opened his eyes and glanced across straight into Derek’s examining eyes. Oh shit! He thought to himself.
“I’m fine honestly.” Stiles half smiled to try to put Derek at ease.
“I know you’re not fine.”
“How can you kn-” Stiles didn’t finish his sentence. “You know the whole werewolf chemosignals thing is unfair. I’m sick of everyone I know knowing how I feel better than I do.” Stiles didn’t mean it to come out quite as harshly as it did, or maybe he did, he wasn’t really sure. He did know that he wasn’t angry at Derek though and immediately regretted how he’d sounded. Derek watched him in silence for a moment.
“I didn’t need to read you to know something’s off. Something’s been bothering you for a while and it been getting worse. I had hoped you’d tell me what it is. Aren’t you happy?” Derek asked, his eyes searched Stiles face for any reaction. Stiles looked at him not really knowing how to put his feelings into words.
“It’s not that I’m not happy. I just… I don’t know…” Stiles voice faltered as the left his thought half finished. Derek didn’t push him to continue, he could see Stiles was struggling with something and didn’t want to put words in to his mouth,. But it wasn’t just that, he was terrified of what Stiles might say next. He’d felt something wasn’t right between them, it started a couple of weeks ago. He’d brushed it off as him over reacting to something Stiles had said but over the past few days the feeling had intensified to the point that he couldn’t let it go any longer. What ever it was was tearing at Stiles and Derek didn’t need his heightened wolf senses to know something was wrong. And he knew what it was, he’d been trying to convince himself that everything would be okay but right there in that moment he knew it was over. Stiles just wasn’t in love with him the way he was in love with Stiles. He didn’t want to face this moment, had been avoiding it as much as he could. Asking the question a minute ago had felt more like a involuntary action than a need to truly know the answer. So here they were, there was no point dragging it out any longer than it needed to be. That’s how people ended up getting really hurt. Derek’s heart physically ached and his stomach felt hollow at the thought of what he was about to say.
“You don’t love me do you.” The words sounded flat and harsh, each one felt like a wound. Derek felt like he was drowning, a crushing pressure constricting his breathing, it was all he could do to just not completely break down right there and then.
“What?!” Stiles snapped up straight in bed. “Is that what you think?” He was in shock, what had he done? As he turned to look at Derek he saw a tear running down the Sourwolfs face.
“Oh God, no Derek. How? What? Jesus Christ yes, of course I love you. What? Why?” Stiles words fell out of him in a rush without him having any real control and without making much sense but from all of that all Derek heard was ‘of course I love you’ The crushing weight all of a sudden had been lifted from his chest and a sense a joy and relief flooded through him. He could breathe again. Stiles pushed himself across the bed and straddled Derek’s waist. He grabbed his face in both hands, using a thumb to gently wipe away the tear. It proved a waste of time as it was quickly replace by another happier one.
“Derek, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to think… why would you think I don’t love you?”
“Something’s been wrong for a while, you wouldn’t talk about it. I don’t know. I’m not used to having good things in my life. I guess part of me has been waiting for it to end. Like I’m not supposed to be this happy, so it won’t last.” Derek wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I feel stupid now.” Stiles stifled a laugh.
“You mean you really are happy?” Stiles asked him.
“I don’t think I’d ever been happy before I met you. I’ve been living in a dream world these last few weeks with you. It’s been perfect.” Stiles leaned forward and kissed Derek, the bitter taste of tears barely ever registered with him. Derek’s arms wrapped around Stiles and dragged him tightly to him, rolling him over as they kissed. Derek ran a hand through Stiles scruffy bedhair as they stared into each others eyes.
“What is it that’s been bothering you?” Derek asked him. Stiles didn’t want to answer, the whole thing was irrelevant now anyway. But Derek had opened himself up so Stiles felt he needed to as well, after all that had been the root cause of it all.
“I didn’t think you were happy with me. I felt more and more like I was holding you back or something. You can do so much better than me. I mean, you’re hot as fuck, you have this whole broody alpha male thing working for you and on top of that you’re a freaking werewolf, you have your own pack and you do all this cool supernatural stuff and I’m… natural. I’m just this skinny kid, there’s nothing particularly special about me, I just didn’t see why you would want me. I guess I just thought it was too good to last too.” Derek looked a little hurt hearing Stiles talk about himself.
“There’s a lot about you that’s special. I should’ve told you before now. I’m not great at this whole communication thing. Everytime I’ve wanted to tell you how I feel about you it’s sounds stupid in my head so I don’t say it. I always thought you just knew anyway, that I didn’t need to tell you. Stiles, I’ve never known anyone who’s meant as much to me as you do, who makes me feel like you do. Just being around you makes me happy. I feel like everyday I find something new about you that makes me love you more.”
“It doesn’t matter that I’m just a normal human?”
“Stiles, you are a long long way from normal.” Derek laughed. Stiles tried to look indignant but eventually he broke out in to a smile.
“I love you because you have a wonderful heart.” Derek paused almost like he was weighing something up in his mind. “And you have a great dick. Actually it’s mostly that. I’d say I love you ninety eight percent because of that and the rest because of your wonderful heart.”
“This dick?” Stiles asked with a cheeky smirk as Derek felt something stiffen against his thigh.
“Oh yeah, that’s the one right there.” Derek said reaching a hand below the covers and kissing Stiles deeply as all the emotions of the morning completely took them over.
Its five in the fucking morning, but why not write a fic about a much better version of my awake perdicament.
I just wanna let Y'all know that I read all of your tags, every single one, and I really like them, so please tag as much as you want.
Anyway, this one’s pretty short but here you go.
Its four in the morning when Derek wakes up to soft contented huffs of warm air against his neck. He doesn’t remember letting Stiles sleep in his bed, probably because what he does remember includes sticking the little shit on the couch where he belongs.
More than likely, the boy wriggled himself into Derek’s space long after the wolf had fallen asleep, entered REM, and begun to dream. It surprised Derek endlessly that he could sleep so comatose with Stiles wandering around his personal space, sometimes even loudly. Anyone else could crack at the joints around him when they walked and stir him awake. He supposed that’s what trust felt like.
Really, he should kick the teen out of his damn bed. Push him away, tell him to fuck off, and stop letting him frequent his loft so often if this is what he was going to do. But, as he lay on his side and stare down at the sleeping form of the offender, he just can’t bring himself to do it.
Stiles is curled sweetly into his chest, nose pressed into his collar bones, sending furls of his breath in every which direction. His hands grip loosely at the nearest fabric they can find, the left taking hold of the sheets, and his right fingers tangled in Derek’s own sweats. He’s be sleep warm, but as usual, his hands are cold.
Derek thinks the boy’s hair is getting a little long, if the way it sticks up in every direction is any indication. He can’t help but run his fingers through it carefully, wondering for what must be the dozenth time how its always so soft. The sent of the sweet chamomile shampoo he uses assaults his nose when he does, and he inhales it deeply. He’s sure he hated it before, his sensitive nose almost always preferring a person’s natural scent, but now it’s comforting in a way he can’t quite put his finger on.
Stiles makes a little sound if contentment in his sleep, so Derek repeats the motion a few times, until he snuggles up closer, jamming his face right into the crook of Derek’s neck.
He resigns himself to counting the moles he can see peaking out from under Stiles shirt, which has ridden up to his waist, since he’s not tired enough to sleep, but too sleepy to get up. He realizes, only after he’s pressed his palm into the soft skin of Stiles’ back and started to rub, that it’s actually his shirt. Not even a clean one, but the one he’d taken off and tossed on the floor before he went to sleep.
He grins toothily to himself at the image of Stiles finding it and tugging it on unabashedly. Likes its not just about the strangest thing in the world to pick up someone’s dirty laundry and just put it on. He supposes if they were lovers it would be normal, but as they are now it makes him itch to tease. Stiles has obviously picked up the need to scent mark himself from the rest of the pack, probably unknowingly, and it’s stupidly cute that this is how he chooses to do it.
He wonders idly when the things Stiles stopped being ridiculously aggravating, and started being cute. He fondly remembers a time when something like this would have him slamming the kid’s head into his steering wheel.
Now though, his violent urges have been replaced with the urge to pet, and rub, and maybe even kiss. He sternly tells his intrusive thoughts to knock it off and let him sleep, but all he gets in return for his efforts is Stiles’ wriggling around and somehow ending up pressed even close to him in his new position.
He pushes himself back and away, not to escape, but because he wants to continue watching the boy sleep. He keeps an arm around Stiles waist, and uses the thumb of his free hand to trace over his face. Thickly lashed Eyelids, turned up nose, soft pink lips, each feature perfect in its own right.
He’s only a little surprised when Stiles chooses to flutter awake just then, all the moving and touching having been pushing it after all.
He blinks sleepily up at Derek, and Derek, undeterred, continues to have his fill of the boy’s pretty face. This should the part where he pushes Stiles onto the floor and goes back to sleep, but instead he leans forward and presses his lips against the pair he’d just been thumbing.
If Stiles is surprised, he’s too half asleep to show it, and after a few more gentle kisses, he scootches closer with a soft smile and returns the treatment enthusiastically, as if they’ve done this a thousand times. Though they haven’t , Derek decides a discussion about this new development can wait until the late morning.
It’s five in the morning when Derek drifts back to sleep, Stiles held tightly to his chest, blissfully warm and sated.
(This is sort of my first imagine here, and also it’s going to be in this blog because I haven’t figured tumblr out somehow, so yeah. Hope you like it! I based it on Alex & Sierra’s song; little do you know.
WARNINGS: not many, a little bit fluff but also sad. Cursing probably. Arguments.)
You’ve been trying and failing to sleep for the last 4 hours. The constant pressure on your chest telling you it still hurts. What he’d done still hurts, and stings, and sucks .
But then finally, after 5 more minutes trying to bliss, you decide to give up and head to the kitchen to have a drink.
Derek was like a rock in his sleep, though you could tell he never really stood off guard, he was always so tense, and trying to protect himself and his dear family and friends even. He was so selfish yet so selfless sometimes, it sort of confused you. And still, after that day you could barely look at him without feeling hurt.
You remembered everything as though it was yesterday, when in reality happened about a week ago. You remember his words, his hands, how he looked at her the same way he used to look at you. used . Hell. If he could only understand, if he knew how it really was.
You were walking your way home when you heard his laughter, stopped by the coffee shop where you saw him leaning close to her, and whispering words to her ear. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?” She asked, looking at him inocently.
“Does it matter?” He answered, smirking and showing off his confidence. Not knowing you were actually hearing it, not knowing he was actually breaking your heart.
She giggled in a fake way and closed the distance between them, shattering your heart when you realized he was following. And even though you knew the next thing to do was sort of psyco, you took the picture and saved it in your phone.
Later that night, you didn’t say anything as he crawled in the bed with you - hugging you by your waist-. You tried to breath normally, to pretend you didn’t even spend the afternoon crying and watching the picture in your phone. Reminding yourself that if he was now looking for love in someone else, then by all means, you should end the relationship.
But you couldn’t.
Walking slowly through the kitchen floor, leaving your half-filled glass of milk on the counter, you went out to the balcony, leaned on the rail, and took a deep breath of fresh air.
Feeling your silent tears fall through your face, you decided it was time to cut it clean. And then you heard a noise.
You turned around just to find a sleepy Derek looking at you. “It’s been cold in the bed without you,” he muttered as he walked closer to you. Making a sweet child-like pout.
“I just didn’t feel okay,” you muttered, watching as he got close enough to see your red-ish eyes, and the trail of your tears.
He looked at you intensly, graving you by the waist, and pushing your body towards his. “What is wrong?” He asked with a frown.
You would’ve laughed, but it didn’t seem appropiate. “You’re so oblivious,” you muttered, bitterness surrounding your voice. He looked surprised.
“What do you mean by that?” Now he sounded serious, almost scared.
“How long?” You asked, feeling nauseated.
“How long what?” His frowning face and the tone of his voice, almost broke you. He knew what you were talking about, but he still tried to deny it.
You took out your phone, and showed him the picture. “I guess it doesn’t matter whether you have a girlfriend or not.” You said giving his words back, your voice trembling and your eyes stinging with tears. “You know,” you breathed, “if you didn’t want me anymore, then you should’ve told me.”
He looked defeated, almost regretful. “It would’ve hurted less” you gave him a sad smile, and then, not bearing the tension in between, you moved in back in the apartment, taking another sip of your milk and leaving the glass in the washer.
Derek was freezed in his place, not understanding the situation. Not realizing what you were doing. Not doing anything to stop you from walking out of his life, not doing anything to stop the love of his life leaving Beacon Hills at all.
I might probably do this as a series. Tell me what you think guys and I’ll have the requests open here. I know this blog isn’t TW, or anything specialized with - though it was meant to be for a novel I was writting years ago- so, I’ll probably make it a multi-fandom fanfic.
you cursed loudly. It was the middle of the night and you were hopping up and
down on one foot in Derek Hale’s kitchen. All you wanted was a midnight snack,
but at this rate, you were going to wake up the whole town.
your defense, you had managed to be stealthy so far, sneaking out of Derek’s
guest room, tiptoeing down the stairs and across the loft with nothing but
tiny, strategically placed nightlights to guide you. Maybe you got a little too
excited in the final moments and didn’t see the protruding cabinet in your path,
slamming your pinkie toe right into the corner. You limped to the counter and slumped
against it dejectedly.
your rage dissipated, you shuffled over to the fridge and pulled out some milk,
rolling your eyes at Derek’s fat free selection. You made a mental note to go
grocery shopping as you rifled through his dishes, spotting an appropriate
cereal bowl trapped under several containers. You tried your best to quietly
remove the ones on top, gingerly setting them aside.
final obstacle was a rather large tupperware container tucked deviously between
a ridge of the dish rack and the cereal bowl. You grabbed the sides of the
container, attempting to separate it, but the movement caused tension between
the surfaces and created a whiny creaking noise. You kept pulling to no avail,
and the noise just got louder.
in one sweeping motion, you yanked the container from its position, but this
knocked the bowl completely out of the dish rack and you squeezed your eyes shut
as you heard a sharp CLANK! against the tile floor.
peeked one eye open, and to your surprise, there were no beautifully bearded
werewolves baring their teeth at you. You bent over to retrieve the bowl,
reaching for the fallen object when all of a sudden, the lights came on. You
The hell. Are you doing?” you heard a familiar voice say. You shot up, coming
face to face with a very sleepy and very distraught Derek.
LOL so IDK if u saw that frankly too precious screen shot Colton posted of him facetiming an all too sexy Tyler H but now I’m freefalling into a abyss of squeals about this head canon branching from your London Pack vision of all the Betas FTing Derek because of separation anxiety, like Jackson needing to spend the holidays with his folks and just FTed Derek to say Sup, not having seen him in like a couple weeks And now I'm all the warm things cuz Derek deserves all the love and splendidness<3
I did see it!! And omg anon this is the most precious idea. I love the idea of Derek’s betas getting really attached to him (especially Jackson who would absolutely never admit it, would call and claim he was making sure Derek was surviving without him, like it was a huge favor.
And poor Derek has to drag himself out of bed at all hours with his bed hair droopy eyes because he’s a good Alpha (even if all he wants to do is stay in bed and snuggle with Stiles).
Nurseychow soft mornings. No cut cause I’m on mobile.
It’s a little warm in the bedroom, but Derek loves the weight of his duvet and the sun. It’s nice.
The arm across his chest is satisfying too.
Derek checks his phone.
“C… C… work.” He nudges the arm. “You gotta’ get up babe,” there’s a sleepy mutter next to Derek, and he’d love to get Chris a coffee, but he’s suddenly got an armful of bundled boyfriend grumpily nuzzling into his arms.
Nine times out of ten, Chris is up before him. Nursey loves mornings like these.
“’M quitting. I’ll break my contract and stay home with you,” all Derek can see of his boyfriend is a tuft of black hair sticking out from the blanket.
“I’d love that, but you know you’d be sad if you couldn’t save your team’s butt every time they screwed up,” Chris huffs a laugh, barely noticeable except for the movement of the comforter.
Nursey lets his head fall back on the pillow, his hand falling down on Chris’s back. They’re quite for ten minutes, soft breaths in the early morning as they doze.
Chris is the first one to start moving again, throwing off his blanket and hopping out of the bed and moving to the dresser. Derek clears his throat and C stops immediately, turning and smiling as he walks back to the bed.
Nursey lays a finger on his cheek, smiling when Chris leans down and busses it. Nursey moves his finger to his other cheek, Chris’s lips following it. Forehead, eyelids, chin, nose, and finally…
“Ugh, morning breath,” C’s nose crinkles as he moves off to get his workout gear on. He’ll brush his teeth with his teal toothbrush and then wash his face. Then he’ll make some sort of hellish protein smoothie before finally heading off to the practise rink.
Nursey has to work on his manuscript, but he’s got plenty of time to nap a bit before brushing his teeth so he can get in a proper kiss from his boyfriend before he’s out the door.
are you writing for the sterek valentines meme? if yes please ♥ write me
Stiles zips up his bag and turns to give Derek a bracing smile, “You gonna miss
snorts from where he’s standing opposite Stiles, “You wish.”
yeah, I do! I earned you pining after my awesome friendship, dude. Remember our
first year? You wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone, and now,” Stiles waves
his hands around their small dorm room, “You got a whole host of pals.”
wouldn’t exactly call Boyd and Erica a host.”
in numbers, but big on the heart,” Stiles pats his own, wiggles his eyebrows.
“Did you ever think we’d get so deep at space camp?”
Derek smirks at him, picks up his own bag slowly, “All those nights you talked
my ear off about how this year’s gonna be your year with that Lydia Martin; so
up! It is gonna be my year, dude. I’m sixteen, now. I’m practically a man.”
a beat, and Derek’s small smile breaks into a grin, “Practically.”