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Stiles is exhausted. He doesn't know he kept his eyes open the entire drive home.
He was only supposed to be gone for two days, but his boss needed another report done that next day. Which he did. Somehow. But that meant driving home for eight hours instead of getting at least one night's rest in.
Once he parks the Jeep, he sits there for a second, fighting sleep. But then he remembers Derek's waiting inside and he pushes himself out of the vehicle. He gets to the front door and stumbles with the keys for a second. Right as he's about to unlock the front door, it swings open and Derek's standing there.
If Stiles were more alert, he'd notice that Derek's hair is mussed, the dark circles under his eyes and that he's wearing the same clothes he had on when Stiles left. But Stiles isn't that alert and all he cares about is holding his boyfriend and sleeping.
So he steps right up to Derek and wraps his arms around him, grunting in greeting.
"Did you get any sleep?" Derek asks, leading him inside.
"Mmhm. Just a li'l," Stiles mumbles against Derek's shoulder. "You?"
"Uh." Again, if Stiles were more alert, he'd catch on to the hesitation. But he's not and he doesn't. "Yeah. Wanna nap?"
Stiles hums. "I wanna sleep for the rest of forever."
"Alright, nap it is."
Next thing Stiles knows, they're laying on their bed, Derek's arms wrapped around him, holding him close. He sighs softly in content and falls asleep in his mate's embrace.
~
Stiles is speechless. Jaw dropped. No sounds coming out. Speechless.
A few months back, Stiles and Derek had found this small little home just for the two of them. With Derek's inheritance and absurd amount of savings, they fixed it up and decorated it relatively quickly (It pays to have werewolves as friends.)
But now, as Stiles stands in the doorway to the front room, he doesn't recognize it. The red feathered pillows are scattered across the couches, the drapes look like they've been in a cat fight, the rug looks like someone, or some thing , literally tried to rip it to shreds, pieces of glass are scattered across the floor and more than one picture frame is hanging crooked on the wall.
"Derek!" Stiles tries to keep the panic out of his voice, but he knows he fails. He woke up not ten minutes ago to a house that looks like it was ransacked. He really doesn't care if he wakes his mate now. " Derek! "
Hurried footsteps come up behind him, followed by a sharp intake of breath.
"What happened?" It takes a second, but Stiles is finally able to tear his eyes away from the disaster. "I was gone for three days!" Derek seems to shrink in on himself. "Were we robbed?"
"No," the other man says quickly. "No, we weren't robbed."
Stiles's eyes widen. "Did something attack while I was gone?"
Derek shakes his head. "No, nothing attacked. Well, not really."
"What do you mean 'not really'? Derek, what happened ?!"
Derek doesn't answer right away and he looks everywhere but at Stiles. "I, uh, well, you had that business trip and I really missed you. So much that I… kinda tore up the house… Sorry."
Stiles doesn't know what to do with that information. But apparently, his mouth does. "Like a dog with separation anxiety." The death glare he gets has him abruptly laughing. "Aww, Derek!" He walks over and pulls Derek into a hug. "I missed you, too."
A soft, relieved sigh comes from the werewolf and Stiles smiles. "I was worried you'd be pissed."
"Oh, I am. And I still think it's cute you missed me so much. But you are so cleaning this up by yourself." Stiles pulls back and pats Derek's cheek. "Coffee?"