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The loft is quiet inside as the storm roils outside, steady rain battering the windows and wind howling. The odd heavy rumble of thunder shaking the walls followed by flashes of lightning that light up the interior.
Stiles would usually be complaining, except Stiles is wrapped up in multiple blankets and surrounded by books and both his and Derek's laptops on Derek's couch, falling down a research rabbit hole on the many inventive ways to banish pixies.
Stiles is stuck here, waiting out the storm, because Stiles was too engrossed in his research four hours ago (when the rest of the pack left) to get up and drive home while the wind and rain were relatively mild.
Thankfully, Derek had the good sense to anticipate Stiles and his general disagreement with disagreeable weather conditions. He brought out all the blankets and dumped them on the couch with Stiles, eventually taking to laying a few over him as he became too engrossed in his research to pull them over himself despite his shivering and grumbling about "fucking icicles man". Derek also had the good sense to brew a full pot of coffee, providing Stiles with a flask of it so at least when he got distracted for an hour, he would still have hot coffee. Because Derek knows Stiles, and Derek is considerate like that.
Two hours later, after Stiles has given up on finding any helpful banishment information online and has shut both laptops, and Derek had given up on Stiles coming out of his rabbit hole any time soon and relegated himself to the armchair across from him with a book, the entire loft goes black with a dull thunking sound.
Stiles gasped and flailed in the immediately stifling darkness, knocking a book (he assumes, as he can't even see his hands in front of his face right now) to the floor along with the pile of blankets he assumes Derek left next to him.
"Shit, I forgot it does this during storms."
Stiles is already in a mild state of panic, his breathing stuttered when he whines out "DEREEEEK… I can't fucking SEE. Where are you?"
"In the exact same place I've been for the last few hours now," Stiles hears from across the room, followed by the rasp of fabric against fabric.
"Okay, but where is that??"
"Here," comes a voice right next to his ear.
"JESUS! DEREK! Absolutely fuck off right now…"
Stiles feels the presence of Derek's body move slightly further away from him and he flails his arms around, trying to grab some part of him and hopefully avoid smacking him in the face, managing to grab a fistful of his shirt sleeve and gripping onto it tightly.
"No wait don't, I need you, I can't see fuck all and I'm prone to falling over air as is so this situation is not helping my decidedly challenged abilities. That and…"
"And dark like this makes you panic. I know Stiles. Breathe…"
He tries to take a deep breath. It's a little easier when he knows there's somebody there, and when he has a firm grip on that tangible thing.
He finds himself rubbing the fabric of Derek's shirt between his thumb and forefinger, the motion and the texture grounding him a little.
After a minute of silence, Derek giving Stiles time to steady his breathing, he mutters out "Where exactly were you intending on going?"
Stiles sighs. "Well one, my bladder just realised exactly how full it is when you almost made me piss myself just now. Thanks again for that, asshole. And B, I need to move these books onto the table so I can lie down because it looks like I'm going to need to crash here."
Derek huffs a laugh.
"Well one," he starts, in a decent imitation of Stiles, "phones have flashlights nowadays… "
Stiles pinches him in the arm with the fingers tangled in his shirt.
"OW Stiles!"
"You deserved that for your cheek, asshole. I am aware of flashlights thank you. My phone died hours ago."
"Could've asked to use mine."
"Eh…" he shrugs to the darkness.
"And B, you don't have to sleep on the couch. There is a bed."
Stiles gets the feeling Derek is watching his face with his werewolfy night vision as he says this.
"Derek, that's your bed. I realise I generally disregard boundaries and spread myself around your space, but I'm not going to just make myself at home on your bed. That's, like, your sanctuary. The one small Stiles-less place in your life."
"What if I don't want it to be?"
"What? Your sanctuary?"
"No. Stiles-less, as you so eloquently put it."
"Oh… Well… Are you sure? I've invaded pretty much every other area of your life dude."
"Don't call me dude."
"Derek."
Derek sighs.
"Yes, I'm sure Stiles. Just…" he tapers off as he finds Stiles' unoccupied hand to pull him off the couch.
Stiles is entirely not okay in the dark. He has just risen to his feet and is already stumbling into Derek's chest.
Derek sighs, again, and moves his hand to grip Stiles' upper arm to steady him.
"You know, there are days when I consider giving you the bite just so I don't have to worry about you killing yourself trying to leave the house. Then I wonder if becoming a werewolf would even help."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence Derek."
"Sure. Now just… You can walk straight Stiles, there's just a pile of blankets in front of you. Ugh…"
Derek lands up with his arms full of Stiles, again.
"Do I need to carry you?"
"Derek, do not fucking carry me. I feel demasculinated as it is."
"For fucks sake just come here Stiles," Derek grumbles as he stoops down to pick Stiles up in a fireman's carry, amidst squeaks of indignation, slipping an arm around Stiles' back and gripping him under his legs, hauling him in against himself and out of the living room, (seemingly) in the direction of his bed.
"WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY ABOUT CARRYING ME?? DEREK!"
Derek replies with a grunt, not even trying to make Stiles feel like this isn't easy for him.
"Okay, OKAY… As much as I love the manhandling, and I do, really," he pats a hand in the direction of Derek's chest and gets the side of his armpit instead, "I am going to end up with bruises."
Stiles feels as Derek steps up and assumes they must be near his bed now.
"OY! Release me already!"
Derek does, and releases Stiles unceremoniously onto the bed. He bounces around a few times before steadying himself and glaring in what he thinks is Derek's direction.
"You know, if you wanted to get me in your bed you could've just asked nicely."
He hears Derek stumble and chuckles to himself.
"Shut up Stiles."
"So this is a nice moment and all but Der, I was serious about the bathroom. I, uh…help, guide, please."
He hears Derek shuffle around and light fills the room. He turns to Derek and he's holding his phone out to Stiles, flashlight on, smirk on his face. "Technology," he says mildly, making a sweeping gesture with his other hand.
Stiles growls at him and grabs the phone, shoving himself off the bed and half running to the bathroom.
Derek gets up and undresses while he waits, throwing on a loose pair of sweatpants and calling to Stiles, "There's extra toothbrushes…"
"Second drawer under the basin, I know," he calls back.
Derek grabs an extra pair of sweatpants for Stiles, and one of his smaller t-shirts, trying not to think about how much he likes the thought of Stiles wearing his clothes and smelling more like him.
Stiles comes out of the bathroom in a halo of light as Derek's shutting his drawers. He hands the clothes to him as he's passing for his turn in the bathroom, "Here… Didn't think you'd want to sleep in your jeans."
Derek can be oddly thoughtful when he wants to be. Stiles smiles at him as he takes the clothes from him, taking in his shirtless form for a second, "Thanks Der."
He nods and moves past him into the bathroom, shutting the door without looking back.
Stiles changes and folds his clothes up, placing them on Derek's dresser before turning to the bed. Now what? Which side did Derek prefer? Which pillows? Was it okay for him to just make himself comfortable, or should he wait for Derek to get himself comfortable first? He was sitting down on the end of the bed when Derek emerged from the bathroom, blinking in the sudden light and quirking an eyebrow at Stiles sitting on the end of the bed.
Stiles shrugged, a little self-conscious now that he knew where they were headed, "I didn't know which side you preferred."
Derek smiled softly at him and made his way over to the opposite side of the bed, climbing in and making himself comfortable with his back against the wall. He looked up at Stiles expectantly and nodded his head towards the other side of the bed.
Stiles got up and went to climb in the bed, settling in like Derek and sitting with his back against the wall, making sure to keep some space between the two of them.
When he looked over at Derek, he was watching Stiles with a furrow on his brow.
He sighed heavily, "Stiles, if I didn't want you in my space I wouldn't have invited you into my bed."
Stiles looked down at the careful space between them then back up at Derek, a small smile forming on his face. "I never know what to do with you, Derek Hale."
Derek let a smile tilt up the corner or his lips as he dropped his head. "Well, first you can give me my phone back…"
"Oh, shit, sorry," Stiles scrabbled around to find the phone amongst the blankets pooled by his legs, then passed it over to Derek. He tapped around on the screen and turned the flashlight off, plunging them into darkness again. Stiles gasped quietly at the sudden blackness. He felt the bed tilt and heard the phone being placed on the bedside table.
"Now…" Derek murmured from beside him, closer than before, "you can come here."
Stiles felt Derek's arm slowly wrap around his back and pull him closer, sliding them both down the bed as he did. He pulled Stiles close to him, so he was tucked along Derek's side with his arm wrapped protectively around his back. Stiles let out a long breath he didn't realise he was holding, letting all the tension bleed out of him as he rested his head on Derek's bare chest, ear just over his heart so he could hear the steady beat of it, letting the sound ground him.
He brought his free arm up and rested it over Derek's stomach, bringing a knee to rest on his thigh.
"Is this okay?"
Derek let out a relieved sigh, dropping his head and burying a kiss in Stiles' hair, resting there, "Yeah, this is good."
Stiles felt Derek's other arm come up, his fingers tangling with Stiles' and resting on his chest.
The loft is quiet, with just the sound of the rain battering the windows and their breathing.
"I think I should come over during storms more often…"
"I think you should just come over more often…"
"I think I should just stay over more often…"
"I think you should just…stay."
"I think I can do that."