Chapter Text
Stiles walks into the loft feeling slightly edgy. It was an okay day, but it was mentally taxing and left him a bit agitated. It was no one thing, just a small amalgamation of little irritants that rubbed him raw. He burned off some energy at Scott’s during a massive Call of Duty battle, but he was really anxious to get over Derek’s. It was early, but he didn’t think Derek would mind.
He opens the loft door and walks inside to see Derek standing in front of his TV eating a bowl of shrimp ramen.
“Dude, what are you even doing?” Stiles asks as he enters and throws his bag on the bed. Derek is watching Forrest Gump wearing only pajama pants and a coddling a giant bowl of noodles.
“Don’t call me dude.” Derek says simply, basically just ignoring Stiles at this point. Stiles, of course, will not be ignored.
“Lieutenant Dan loses his legs.” He only sees the back of Derek’s head, but he knows he’s rolling his eyes.
“This movie is almost 20 years old. I’ve seen it before, Stiles.”
Stiles sits on the bed and notices a shirt laid out on the other side. Stiles looks again at Derek and realizes that in all the times he’s seen him, he’s mostly been shirtless, only really clothing when the girls or humans were around. When it’s Scott or Isaac or even Liam, they run around naked since it makes it less cumbersome to shift, which means....
“Dude, have you been wearing a shirt… for me?” Stiles asks, picking up the shirt and balling it into his bag. Derek waves his hand.
“I have never even ridden a horse, just let me-”
“I thought you’ve seen this movie before?”
“I’ve seen most of it, every time I try to watch the whole thing I get interru-”
“You realize you have like an hour and a half more of Jenny’s bullshit to get through, right?”
“I love Jenny! She’s a lost soul. Come here and watch with me.” Derek finally uses his couch for things that couches are made for and sits down motioning for Stiles to join him. Stiles sits facing Derek and lands his feet his lap. He grins as Derek starts rubbing his ankles as if by habit.
“Rough day today?” He asks after a moment, surprising Stiles.
“Is it that obvious?” Stiles wonders about the lines that were just beginning to smooth on his forehead. Derek grins and then turns back to the TV.
“You just look a little worn down. Try to relax. I can make you some tea or warm milk if you’d like.” Stiles nods and a few minutes later he’s curled against Derek’s side nursing a mug of warm milk with honey and spoiling the movie for Derek.
“The reason they call things the Forrest Gump of things is because literally everything happens in this movie. His actions affect generations. Also, Jenny gets AIDS.” Derek whips his head around in shock.
“What?! No!” He looks at Stiles hopefully and then groans when he sees the little imp is serious.
“Dammit, Stiles! Why can’t you just- you’re the Forrest Gump of pains in my ass!” and at this exclamation, Stiles is reminded of why he enjoys riling Derek up so much when Derek levels him with a wounded puppy expression, pouting at having been spoiled.
“Oh my god, you’re so precious. What does that even mean? You mean I’m every kind of pain in your ass? How many pains is your ass having? I don’t think you’re using enough lube.” Derek shakes his head and grabs Stiles by the neck, forcing him off the couch.
“That’s it. There’s no way I’m going to be able to finish this, so we’re just going to go to bed. And you’re totally jetpacking tonight.” Stiles tries his damnedest to hide his grin, but Derek is unconvinced as he glares at Stiles while setting the DVR to record the movie. Well, trying to.
“Just shut up and do it!” he says, launching the remote at Stiles and walking away in a huff as his feckless human laughs and laughs.
Derek goes to the bed and pauses for a moment.
“I could have sworn…” Derek mumbles as he looks around. Stiles finishes with the DVR and heads to his side of the bed, tearing his shirt off in the process. He lays down and reaches out for Derek who is still a little perplexed.
“Come on, get in.” He does and lays at Stiles’ side, dipping his nose into Stiles’ pit, causing the boy to giggle.
“Hey, thanks for wearing a shirt around me and trying to make me comfortable. The first few nights I was still kind of closed off and it helped a lot, but I don’t want you to stop being you.” Stiles says as he works his fingers through Derek’s hair. Derek places a firm, warming hand on his sternum, allowing his thumb to linger just above Stiles’ heart.
“This isn’t about me, Stiles. We’ve come a long way and I need to know that you trust me and you’re comfortable. I trust you to know your boundaries and I’m glad that you trust me to respect them. You don’t have to hide my shit. If you say no shirts, then no shirts it is.” Stiles watches Derek, for a glint of mocking in his eyes, a hint of insincerity that never arrives. He nods.
“Yeah, well, now it’s not a problem, now is it?” Derek pulls at the tuft of Stiles’ chest hair sat between his pecs and grins as Stiles gives a little yelp.
“Seriously Stiles, where’s my shirt?” Stiles pushes Derek’s hand away and crosses his arms indignantly. Derek takes this opportunity to cage the younger irritant into his embrace. Stiles shakes his head.
“You never have to wear a shirt again, Derek. Not anymore. Not because of me.” Stiles curls in as Derek begins nosing his neck. He can feel the wolf’s breath light on his collarbone.
“But I do have to wear a shirt again and that was one of my favorites.” Derek says as he nips at Stiles collarbone and gives a little growl. Stiles lightly slaps his cheek.
“No more shirts shall be worn after this day! I have decreed it and you said-” Derek hitches a leg over Stiles’ and begins to shake him gently, feinging frustration.
“What about when I have to go to the store?”
“Delivery!”
“To the bank?”
“Well they certainly won’t have questions about how you make your money. Besides, when is the last time you’ve gone to the bank?” Derek stops shaking Stiles and buries his face back in his neck defeated.
“I have investments.” he muffles into Stiles’ nape.
“You have the internet. I know because I set it up for you.”
“I prefer a more personal touch.”
“Is that how you got all those pains in your ass?” Stiles asks straightly as Derek groans and tries not to laugh. “Besides, there’s nothing more personal touch than skin to skin.”
“I don’t want to get personal touch with just everyone, Stiles.”
“Just your new and exciting friends at the bank?” Derek nips at Stiles’ ear who flaps his hand at him. “Fine, fine, okay! I won’t rip up all your shirts into cleaning rags.”
“Thank you, Stiles. Now where is it?”
“Oh, you’re not getting it back.” Stiles appears nonchalant as Derek gives him his best eyebrow glare.
“What? Why?!”
“I really like it.”
“Oh god, werewolves are not supposed to get headaches.”
“It’s so soft, Derek. I always wear it when I come over anyway, it might as well be mine.” Derek sighs and yawns before turning Stiles on his side and moving in close to his back. He presses his lips lightly to the shell of Stiles’ ear.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay.”
Stiles wakes up once that night. He doesn’t remember what awoke him, may have been nothing at all, but he’s laying there calmly, heartbeat steady, staring into the darkened loft. Normally Derek has him in a vice grip, but right now he’s just encompassing Stiles loosely. It feels like progress and the previously tortured teen is glad.
He turns around in his cage and pushes Derek gently on to his back, looping his arms around Derek’s neck. Derek instantly wraps around Stiles, giving him a little squeeze and settling back. The glide of Derek's chest hair rubbing along Stiles' torso causes a relaxed sigh to escape his lips. Derek gives a pleased rumble before slipping back into sleep.
***
From then on out, shirts become merely a suggestion in the Stiles and Derek Cuddy Buddy Clubhouse “Stiles, Cora told me what cuddy buddy means on Skype!” It’s warm for spring so as soon as Stiles enters the house his shirt comes off and he’s invading Derek’s personal space.
They’re laying in bed, having gone down early and Stiles is curled into Derek’s side as Derek absentmindedly plays connect the dots with the moles on the younger’s back.
“I think if I actually mark you up with a sharpie, it will end up in the shape of a curly fry.” Derek deadpans as Stiles scoffs at the accusation.
“First off, you say that like it wouldn’t be awesome, but if I could get a curly fry and it looks like Jesus? I could run for president and win!”
“I would register just so I could vote for the other person on the ballot.”
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words cut me to the bones and then break them. It’s a double whammy, you in sarcasm mode. I can’t even recover enough to mock you for not being registered to vote.” Stiles says with a pinch to Derek’s nipple to punctuate his point.
“They’re so pink!” Derek scrunches his eyebrows until he sees Stiles regarding his nipples.
“You have the attention span of a 3 year old.”
“Yeah, but they’re so small and pink!”
Stiles shakes his head and flicks the nipple softly. Derek slaps his hand before reaching over and pinching one of Stiles’.
“Yours are pink too.”
”Nah, they’re more dusky. Where yours are manly lil hard nibs, mine are wide flat baby suckers. It’s a complete mismatch.”
“Yes, Stiles. Clearly you’re not meant to be sucked.” Derek says into Stiles’ shoulder as Stiles flails in agreement.
“I know, right? What a waste- wait, what?” Stiles pinches Derek’s arm as Derek snorts, “Dammit, Derek! I know you know when you do that shit!” Derek simply grins and shrugs.
“You suck, dude.” Stiles sits back and attempts to push the wolf off of him with no success. Derek props himself up on his side, resting his chin in his hand and wrapping his free arm around Stiles. He looks into Stiles faux offended eyes which are clear and wide with wonder. Derek smiles softly.
“Sometimes I do.” Stiles opens his mouth, “Don’t call me dude!”
“I- I wasn’t going to… that’s not what I was going to s-”
“But never with guys who think their real nipples got thrown off the assembly line. You’re not some misshapen raggedy Andy doll set adrift on the island of misfit toys, Stiles. You’re perfect. Your nipples are perfect. Stop whining and being a baby or you’ll be forced to try and suck your own nipples and I’ve officially said nipples more than I ever thought I would have to in my entire life. I hope you’re happy.”
The flush started when Derek began talking and now has invaded Stiles’ entire body, making noticeable entries in his cheeks and the aforementioned nubs resting on his chest. The rush of blood has filled them causing a deeper rouge in the now puffier flesh.
“Well shit, D. Look at that, they’ve perked right up.” He meets Derek’s perturbed expression with gleeful eyes. “Hey, don’t look so dour! You made my nipples feel better about themselves!”
Derek can’t help but grin, a little proud of himself for having made Stiles happy. Stiles cups his hands under his breast meat and looks up at Derek again, this time batting his lashes.
“Give em a kiss?”
“Uggh!” Derek falls on his back before turning his body away from Stiles in mock disgust.
“C’mon Derek! The right one doesn’t mind if you use tongue, but really it would let anyone get away with it, it’s always been a little slutty.”
“I’m going start sleeping with earbuds in.” The beleaguered werewolf grumbles, smooshing a pillow over his head.
“That just means I’ll have to get closer to talk to you.” Stiles scoots over and drapes himself over Derek’s back. He removes the pillow and leans in, whispering into Derek’s ear.
“Thanks for being nice to me.” Derek turns his head and looks at the sincerity and hope in his friend’s expression.
“Stiles, you don’t nee-” Stiles places his hand over Derek’s mouth.
“Shh… just take it.” Derek nods.
“Yeah, okay.”