Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1818964.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV), teen_wolf_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Insomnia, post_3b, Anal_Sex, Hurt/Comfort
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-06-20 Words: 3700
****** Where You Lay Your Head (Home) ******
by TatsuKitty
Summary
     "What are you doing out here?" Derek asked, eyebrows trying their
     hardest to convey any scrap of emotion he'd dare let on that sour
     mug.
     "Trudging." Stiles shrugged and gave him a crooked grin. He almost
     laughed at Derek's confused and slightly judgemental eyebrow. "You
     know, to trudge, the slow, weary, depressing yet determined wa---"
     "I've seen the movie, Stiles,"
Notes
     It's all ChefJoe's fault... First sterek fanfic, I hope it's ok!
     Unbeta'd so I'm sorry in advance for any mistakes!
     ETA: I've got a podfic for the work from the amazing breakneck! It's
     perfection and she's awesome and you should listen and like her stuff
     and read her fics
     https://soundcloud.com/clickety/where-you-lay-your-head-home-podfic
     http://archiveofourown.org/users/breakneck
He'd watched himself crack apart. It wasn't something you came back from very
easily. He sat up, clicking through the computer for lack of anything else to
do, trying futilely to stay awake.

He always ended up giving in, and always ended up waking gasping for air, the
memory of the nogitsune hissing in his ear. Tonight was no different in that
respect. He sighed as he scrubbed his hands over his face, as though he could
scrub away the memories, the bone weary ache he felt. He eyed his bed with a
small amount of hatred. Hating inanimate objects was pretty low, even for him,
so he flopped gracelessly, face down on the bed. Stiles' head had barely hit
the pillow before his eyes drifted shut as if weighted and glued.
He awoke, as predicted, two hours later. His chest felt like an elephant was
stepping right over his solar plexis. He was dizzy, disoriented, and his
fingers shook as he counted them again and again.Stiles was alive. He was safe.
No one else had died.

The remembrance made him restless so he stood and stumbled to the bathroom to
wash his hands and brush his teeth. And then wash his hands again.
The sky was still dark as he peered through his window. He took a deep breath,
sucking precious oxygen into a chest that felt starved for it. He knew that he
wasn't really unable to breathe. It was just his mind but his mind had been the
cause of so much chaos that it wasn't as comforting as it used to be. He
stuffed his feet into his shoes without bothering with socks or putting on
jeans and tugged a hoodie over his sleep shirt. He tripped down the stairs,
scribbled a hasty note so his dad wouldn't worry, and left the house.

Outside felt a little better to Stiles. The soft sound of crickets and sleepy
chirps of birds played a soundtrack to shut his brain down for a bit. He put
one foot in front of the other, keeping a slow and steady pace.

"Stiles?"

He jerked around with a gasp, falling into a fighting stance without really
thinking about it. Derek raised his hands in the universal 'harmless' gesture,
palms spread in front of him. Stiles relaxed and then rubbed a hand over his
messy hair.
"heeey, derek. Sup?" He grinned sheepishly.
"What are you doing out here?" Derek asked, eyebrows trying their hardest to
convey any scrap of emotion he'd dare let on that sour mug.

"Trudging." Stiles shrugged and gave him a crooked grin. He almost laughed at
Derek's confused and slightly judgemental eyebrow. "You know, to trudge, the
slow, weary, depressing yet determined wa---"

"I've seen the movie, Stiles," Derek interrupted, his face conveying enough
sass to break Stiles into a proper laughing fit for the first time in days. He
rocked his shoulders with it and felt immediately ten times better at the, if
he wasn't imagining it, pleased expression on Derek's face.

"Well, I'm trudging, so what are you doing? Stalking?"

"Yes." he replied, dry as a bone, eyebrows a flat line. Stiles pulled his lips
into his mouth before cracking up again.

"I have not had enough sleep, obviously, because you're fucking hysterical
today." He teased and patted one of Derek's (why the fuck are they so huge)
biceps.

"You're not sleeping again?" Derek frowned sharply and took a step closer to
Stiles.

"Ahh...I kinda am? I get a couple hours. Here and there." He waved a hand. "No
big deal."

"Here and there?" Derek drawled, unamused. Stiles sighed heavily. Here we go
again.

"It's not for lack of trying, dude. I just.. Wake up." He tugs on his
fingertips again, counting in his head. Derek's eyes track the movement before
he snakes a hand out quick as a flash and snags Stiles' wrist, tugging his hand
into his line of sight.

"In dreams you have extra fingers..." He muttered under his breath. Stiles felt
himself still.

"Who told you that?"

"...It doesn't matter." He evaded.

"Yes, it does, Derek! Who told you?!" Stiles tried to jerk his hand back but
Derek held on to it tightly.

"You did." Derek replied, looking still and serious into Stiles face. He felt a
cold chill run down his spine and he gasped for air. He was forgetting things
again. He didn't tell Derek that. He didn't..."Breathe, Stiles. Breathe with
me." He put Stiles' palm against his chest, over his heart and took a slow,
deep breath. Stiles was startled into obeying, snapping his gaze to Derek's in
confusion and no small amount of shock.

"I... I don't remember telling you that. Why don't I remember?" He manages
after a few slow breaths.

"I had a dream. Before...she came back. You were there." Derek wouldn't meet
his gaze now, kept his eyes fixed on a point over stiles' shoulder, so he
missed the awesome impression of a goldfish stiles was currently doing. "I told
you I couldn't remember if I was awake or dreaming and you told me we had extra
fingers in dreams. And you did." He gestures the back of his hand to Stiles.
"Then I woke up and she was there." She meaning Kate.

"....Why me?" Stiles found himself asking. "Out of everyone you know, you
picked me for advice?"

Derek...flushed. there were two high points of color on his cheekbones and the
back of his neck went red enough that it was creeping around to the front.
Stiles felt like his eyes were going to bug out of his head any second.

"Derek?" he prompted again, squirming and leaning his head on his neck to try
and get Derek to look him in the face.

"I trust you." Derek snaps, looking irritated again. Reflexively, stiles jerked
his hands up and counted his fingers. No one trusted him anymore. They tried,
he knew they did. It didn't change the fact that they didn't, though. Ms.
McCall was always hesitant when she touched him now. The first touch would be
light and nervous before she would drag him into a hug or pet his hair back or
rub hands over his shoulders, as if proving to herself that he was still
himself. His dad eyed him warily in the mornings when they sat together for
breakfast with his cop's face on, methodically categorizing Stiles' for any odd
behavior. He started to count his fingers again before Derek put one large hand
over his. "It's okay."

Stiles jerked his eyes up to Derek's face again and gulped hard, gritting his
teeth to fight the sudden burn in his eyes. "You trust me?"

"I trust you," He confirmed.

"Why? I... I did things, i kidnapped lydia, I kil--"

"Don't do that to yourself. Stop that." Derek ordered, eyes flashing briefly
with angry blue. "You didn't do any of that. The nogitsune did. You helped kill
it."

"It was my body."

"It could have been anyone's body. It could have been Scott or me. It's usually
me." He replied with a quirk of self deprication. Stiles felt like he swallowed
a heavy stone, the weight thunking in the bottom of his stomach.

"Hey. Can..." He starts and then fades with nervousness before taking a
steadying breath. "Can I sleep at your place?"

Derek tilts his head, looking for all the world like a confused dog. Stiles
can't help the huff of laughter and a grin.

"You trust me, but I don't. I trust you. You'd stop me from doing anything bad,
right?" He asks. Derek's face shifts to something suddenly young and slightly
awed, brows up away from his eyes and lips slightly parted. He nods slowly.
"Well, maybe I can sleep then. If I know I won't turn into a murder beast as
soon as I hit REM." He tries to joke. Derek just nods again and starts walking.
Stiles trails behind him, wondering what the hell even was his life anymore.

When they arrived at the loft, he flopped down without even taking off his
shoes. He inhaled deeply. This was better than home. It smelled like Derek's
shampoo and laundry detergent. He fell asleep almost instantly and slept for
sixteen hours straight.
***
It becomes somewhat of a routine, Stiles showing up at some ungodly hour to the
loft and flopping on the nearest soft surface to sleep his fill. This goes on
for a month or so. Stiles thinks it says something about his friendship with
Scott that the werewolf doesn't seem to notice anything different about Stiles.

It's about 4 in the morning when Stiles finally caves this time. He had waited
out the past three days but now he feels like he's doing a slow rotation in
space; like gravity has shifted. He's got to sleep. He walks, not trusting
himself behind the wheel, and trudges (heh) up to Derek's loft. He doesn't
remember making it up the staircase but he wakes up a bit more when he flops
half on Derek, who lets out a sound like a strangled moose. He snorts with
helpless laughter and scoots over him, taking up the empty space in the bed.
"S'ok, just me, sleep now." He slurs and steals Derek's pillow. Had he been in
his right mind, he probably wouldn't have crawled into bed with the older man
but he's insomnia drunk and too damn tired to care. He gives Derek a bleary
grin at his owl wide eyes and jaw dropped expression before starting to sleep.

Derek's laying in bed with him still when he wakes up, god knows how many hours
later. It's still dark outside and he sucks a noisy, snuffling breath through
his nose as he stretches and then looks bewildered at Derek, who arches a
judgmental brow at him.

"Uh. Hi?"
"Hi. You've been out for about 18 hours. You also jumped on me while I was
sleeping."

"It wasn't a jump, it was a flop, don't be a dramawolf." Stiles snickers and
stretches again just because it feels good. Derek's eyes track the movement of
his torso and Stiles pauses for a moment. "You sounded like a dying moose.
Also, I'm sorry."

"It's.. well. It's not fine. Don't do that. I could have attacked you." Derek
shakes his head.

"You wouldn't. We spent too much time saving eachother's asses to turn mine
into a steak." He snorts with laughter.

"Half asleep and not knowing it's you?" Derek's face really shouldn't be able
to exude that much sass at one point in time. "Does your dad know you're coming
here?"

"...Not... as such? I told him I'm staying with a friend, so it's still the
truth." He shrugs. That slightly gobsmacked, awed look comes back to Derek's
face for a moment before he sighs heavily.

"Well. I could come over while you sleep. You can't keep crashing after days,
Stiles. It's not healthy."

"Aww, you do care, sourwolf!" Stiles teases and clutches his hands over his
chest like a swooning maiden and rolls on the bed.
Derek puts a foot on his hip and pushes him easily to the floor.
***

Stiles had honestly forgotten Derek's offer and, as such, wasn't expecting him
in his room when he stumbled in from the shower in nothing but a towel. He let
out a (very manly) squeal and grabbed the towel where it almost dropped.
Derek's mouth ticked up at the corners like he was trying very hard not to
smile and he arched a brow.

"It's been two days again, Stiles."

"....You're in my room. And I'm naked. NAKED, Derek! Unclothed!" He flailed one
hand. He expected Derek to level him with a flat look or to laugh at him.
Instead, Derek flushed. He turned and faced a wall, the back of his neck bright
red. Stiles narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He dropped the towel where he was
and walked nude to his dresser to get boxers. Derek's shoulders flinched and
his spine straightened when he heard the towel hit the floor. Stiles added it
to his mental catalog.

"So, this is a thing? Did you climb in my window again? I thought we were past
this."

"Your dad let me in." Derek replied, sounding slightly strangled. Stiles tugged
a tank top on and frowned thoughtfully.

"He didn't give you any grief?"
"He...apparently put two and two together."

"Oh. Shit. He didn't threaten to shoot you, did he?" Stiles winced and then
tugged on his sleep pants.

"No. Not shoot me." Derek muttered and rubbed the back of his (still very red)
neck.

"I'm decent. So what did he threaten you with?"

"Nothing!" He answered far too quickly and shakes his head. "...Shut up,
Stiles. Go to sleep."

"What, no goodnight kiss?" He asks, eyes narrowed and watched Derek's reaction.
The flush crept over Derek's face, his eyes went to stiles' mouth. He wasn't
imagining it! He wasn't imagining it...

"You definitely need sleep." Derek nudged him towards the bed and took his
computer chair.

"...Hey, Derek?" Stiles asked, tugging the blankets over his shoulders. Derek
looked up, slightly irritated at the interruption. "Thanks." He gave a
surprisingly soft smile and just nodded before looking back at his book. It
took Stiles a while to fall asleep, his mind churning over his new information.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it. It pretty much only took
one look at the man before anyone with a healthy sex drive to think about it,
for fuck's sake. He had thought about it in many ways, in fact. He blushed a
bit and shifted to lay on his stomach, just in case Derek looked up and there
was a..situation.

Derek was hot. Ungodly so. Really, those muscles and his firm mouth and that
stomach... but surprisingly that wasn't what Stiles was really focusing on. He
knew objectively (and imaginatively) that Derek's body was attractive. Instead,
he watched from under his lashes as Derek turned a page in the book, legs
crossed at the ankles and shoulders slumped. He thought about the huff of
laughter, that fragile awed look, the stiff way he held himself sometimes, his
dumb squished sleepy face...the rare smile that looked like it might have
actually been made out of sunshine.

Oh fuck.

How had he missed this?

His heart stuttered into a jackrabbit pace and he gasped softly. Derek didn't
trust anyone but he trusted Stiles after everything. Stiles trusted him.
Stiles...might be seriously in love with him.

"Stiles." Oh god, Derek was leaning over him now, one warm hand on his
shoulder. Stiles snapped his eyes open and stared into his concerned face for a
split second before his body was twisting and lurching up of it's own volition.
His lips barely brushed Derek's before he realized what he was doing and
flopped back down to his pillow, feeling terrified at Derek's reaction. He
trailed his eyes over his face nervously. Derek, for his part, looked
gobsmacked and blinked as if he'd been hit in the back of the head before he
gingerly leaned down and kissed Stiles in return. And he... Oh.

Of all the many, many, and detailed, ways Stiles had imagined this, he'd never
even come close. Derek kissed him slowly, lips warm and just the right amount
of damp before he sucked stiles' bottom lip into his mouth. It sent a hot spark
straight to the pit of his stomach and he gasped, giving way for Derek to lick
into his mouth. He let out a soft groan that was returned and his hands somehow
ended up in Derek's hair.

Derek's hands trailed down his sides, the tips shaking gently. Stiles arched
into the touch, tugging gently at Derek's hair as he slid his other hand over
Derek's shoulders. Derek's hands slid under Stiles' tank top and he pulled back
from the kiss.

"Stiles...I..." His voice shook and it hit stiles like a ton of bricks.

"Hey." He slid his fingertips under Derek's chin. "I want you. Please." He felt
a little corny saying it but it was apparently exactly what Derek needed to
hear. He pulled back and tugged his shirt up and off. Stiles felt jittery with
excitement, slid his fingers down Derek's back to feel the roil of sinew and
muscle as he moved over stiles. He arched his head back as Derek's mouth stole
down his neck.

When he'd thought about this before it had always been something feverish and
wild, a thrust against a wall or a desperate coupling after fighting for their
lives. He'd never thought about Derek touching him like he was something vital
to his existence, slow, careful, and tentative.

Derek mouthed at his collar bone and stiles sucked in a sharp breath as he
found points Stiles had never even considered could be sensitive before now.
Derek slid stiles tank top up and off and moved his mouth down his chest. If
Stiles had the presence of mind to be bothered, he'd probably be rather
embarrassed about the desperate sounds escaping his mouth. He arched up into
Derek's mouth and begged softly, grabbing handfuls of the sheets.

Derek flat out ignored him, teasing his nipples before kissing down his
stomach. Stiles could feel it shaking under the touch and squirmed, moved to
push down his own pants before he lost the courage. Derek sucked in a sharp
breath but still didn't move to touch his cock, bypassing it for sliding his
hands over Stiles' shaking thighs.

"Derek, please, c'mon, please..!" he gasped, looking down his body.

"Lube?" Derek asked, voice slightly deeper than usual, pupils wide and dark.
Stiles gasped again because that was the hottest thing he'd ever heard in his
life. He nodded and fumbled for the bedside drawer, gracelessly jerking the
bottle out and thrusting it towards Derek. He gave a soft huff of laughter and
grinned at Stiles before bending to kiss him again, catching Stiles' return
laughter in his mouth.

Stiles wrapped arms that felt boneless around Derek's neck, kissing him almost
lazily now, deep, slow and dirty. He jerked in startlement when one of Derek's
fingers slid between his legs, brushing against his hole.

"Is this ok?" Derek asked, pulling back so their lips barely brushed as he
spoke. Stiles nodded.

"Yeah, just was focused on kissing you." he huffed another laugh and kissed
Derek's answering grin before laying back over the pillows. Derek kissed down
his neck as he pushed his finger into Stiles. He'd never been brave enough to
do this to himself, despite his rampant curiosity. He gasped at the unfamiliar
sensation, rocking his hips experimentally. Derek groaned, breath fanning over
his shoulder in a hot wave. He curved his finger and stiles jerked and moaned
loudly, tossing his head back at the sudden, sharp wave of pleasure.

He worked stiles open until Derek had three fingers inside him and his legs
were bending of their own will, thighs and stomach quivering. He was letting
out an endless, mindless litany of "pleasepleaseplease, Derek..." as Derek
pressed his fingers into him again and again. "Oh, god I can't, please!" He
begged, fingers tugging against the back of Derek's neck, trying to get him to
do something. Anything!

Derek finally relented, pulled back and tugged his jeans and boxers off. Stiles
gasped, jaw dropped as Derek stroked lube over his own cock. Stiles swiped at
the puddle of pre on his own stomach, but Derek batted his hands away when he
went for his cock. He let out a pretty pathetic whine before Derek moved, hands
sliding down his thighs as he tugged him where he wanted before he gripped the
base of his cock and started pushing slowly into him.

It burned a little, the blunt head of Derek's cock wider than his fingers, and
it felt like a little pinch. Stiles felt his eyebrows narrow as he struggled to
relax into the sensation. Derek pressed sloppy, hot mouthed kisses to his
cheek. Stiles had a wild urge to laugh again, instead muttered "are you kissing
my moles?"

"....Maybe." Derek evaded and Stiles lobbed his head back in a grin that ended
in a ragged moan as Derek slowly moved his hips. Derek's hands held him in
place as he set a pace on the slow side of steady and angled just the right way
at Stiles' breathless encouragements.

"Oh, fuck, Derek, oh holy shit..!" He keened and looped his legs around him,
sliding his hands over his arms because he had no fucking clue what to do with
them. Derek solved the problem by guiding one to stroke himself. He tugged him
into another kiss as he lazily stroked himself in time with Derek's thrust. He
was desperate to come but at the same time he didn't want this to end.

Derek was moaning softly against his mouth, thrusts getting ragged. "Stiles.
Close, c'mon...' He murmured.
For once in his whole goddamned life, Stiles listened and arched up as he came
in mess streaks over both their stomachs. He felt like he shook apart and
stuttered back together while Derek jerked his hips into his own, bending to
rest his forehead against Stiles' chest as he thrust through his own orgasm.
Stiles dragged him up to kiss him again, whined softly when he pulled slowly
out.

Derek moved to the side of him, tugging him close and murmuring indecipherable
words into Stiles' hair. Stiles felt like he was smiling like an idiot and
stroked lazy, soft fingertips over whatever skin he reached on his lazy way.
This was literally the best thing he'd ever done. Hands down.

He looked up at Derek's eyelashes, dark and fanned out over his cheekbones.
Jesus, his lashes were fucking crazy. How did Derek have any right to be so
stupidly pretty? He stilled, watching Derek sleeping, waiting. He counted to a
hundred in his head and then brought his hands up, silently counting his
fingers.

He startled when Derek's fingers laced between his own and a lazy, soft kiss
was pressed to his temple. "It's ok, Stiles."

And it was.
  Works inspired by this one
      Where_You_Lay_Your_Head_(Home)-Podfic by breakneck, TatsuKitty
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