Sour Miguel

Sleepy 🌙💤 sterek! Thanks!! 😊

Do they cuddle together to sleep or not?

Derek is an aggressive cuddler. Like, it’s something that really surprised Stiles, given how standoffish Derek can be otherwise, but once they started dating, it didn’t take long for him to realize Derek is a gigantic marshmallow who really, really enjoys snuggling and being snuggled. He’s not sure if it’s a Derek thing or a werewolf thing or some combination of both, but he sure as hell doesn’t mind.

Who stays up later? Do they read in bed and cuddle or come to bed quietly later?

Stiles. Stiles is virtually always up working on something. Sometimes he’ll come to bed on his own, but other times Derek has to physically remove him from his desk and drag him to bed. (“But I’ve almost got this, Derek!” “Then you can finish it after the sun is up.”)

Who falls asleep on the couch/elsewhere by mistake and who pouts because they were left alone in bed?

Stiles falls asleep almost anywhere in the strangest positions, and Derek has taken to walking the house to find him and bring him back to bed so he doesn’t wake up with a crick in his neck that he will bitch about for at least 5 hours.

Separate blankets? (Separate beds?)

Same bed and same blankets. Even if Derek is the more aggressive snuggler, Stiles really loves wrapping both of them up in a blanket burrito together.

Who wants all the pillows and who shakes their head in disbelief from their very reasonable single pillow?

Stiles has one pillow that he can literally never sleep without, while Derek prefers to make himself a small nest. Each of them thinks the other is ridiculous.

Snoring?

Surprisingly, neither.

Restless sleeper/kicks in their sleep?

Stiles can be occasionally. Once Derek is out, he’s out.

Talks in their sleep?

Stiles. Really, Derek feels like he shouldn’t be surprised.

Who has worse nightmares?

Between everything that’s happened to both of them, they both have some pretty awful nightmares.

How do they handle their own/each other’s nightmares?

Derek needs to curl up to Stiles and breathe in his scent and listen to his heartbeat. It’s something that grounds him when it feels like the nightmares are too real. It helps if Stiles talks, too, but even if he doesn’t, even if he’s just sitting there petting Derek’s hair or stroking his back, it’s enough just to have him there and listen to the steady beat of his heart until Derek can fall back asleep.

Stiles has to get up and move, to remind himself he’s still in control of his own body. He talks, rambles, rants, and Derek sits there and listens until Stiles comes back to bed on his own. Then, Derek can hold him close and remind him that it was just a dream, he’s doing better, this is real, until Stiles’s mind finally quiets and they can both go back to sleep.

Do they have trouble sleeping when they’re apart?

So much trouble sleeping. Usually they’ll end up on the phone until one of them passes out, but it’s still harder on Derek because he really misses Stiles’s scent. More than once, Stiles has come home to see that Derek has piled dirty laundry in the bed just to make it easier.

Who wakes up earlier? Do they wake the other, slip out quietly, or just laze contentedly for a while?

Derek wakes up earlier, and usually goes for a run or putters in the garden before it gets too hot outside. Sometimes he’ll even get Stiles to go with him.

How do mornings go once they’re awake? (On relaxing days or an average day?)

Usually Derek’s up first even though he doesn’t have to be as much now; he’s learned that he actually does like being up early even if there’s no threat, and it’s much nicer to get a slow, quiet start to the day where he can just work out or go do his garden before Stiles gets up.

Sometimes he makes breakfast, other times he gets back in from his run or his yard work to see that Stiles already has the coffee on and is making breakfast for them before he goes to work.

But on relaxing days when Stiles doesn’t have work, Derek will come back to bed with coffee/tea after his run and cuddle up with Stiles until they absolutely have to leave the bed.

(send me a ship and I’ll tell you how they sleep)

I wish you would write a fic where Stiles gives Derek a good, fast, and rough d***ing in an abandoned building (pardon my French) Then sprinkle plenty of angst, a bit of humor, and of course some fluff 😉

You mean decking? I’m pretty sure you mean decking.

“You punched me.” Derek looked shocked about this development from the dirty concrete floor. He wiped at his jaw and looked at his hand like he was expecting blood, but it’d only been a punch, and a human punch at that. Then the confusion turned to indignation. “You punched me?”

The surprise and outrage were almost more offensive than the original offense.

“What, never been punched by a human?” Stiles asked shittily, mockingly, shaking out his right hand. “First time for everything, you absolute douche.”

Derek rolled his eyes–rolled his eyes. “Punched, yes, suckerpunched, no.” He dabbed at his jaw again for some reason. “Have you been taking classes?”

That was probably rhetorical, but Stiles was feeling smug about decking an alpha werewolf, so he leaned into it.

“Yes, actually. With Lydia. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and the instructor thinks I’m an absolute delight.” At least someone did in this stupid town of hellhounds and werewolves. Douchebag werewolves. Who said insulting things to humans in a misguided attempt to get them to storm away from dangerous situations, and leave said douchebag werewolves to deal with danger and impending death alone. “Did you really think that would work?”

Derek dabbed at the inside of his lip with his thumb and it came away bloody, but the open wound had probably already healed before he hit the floor.

“Honestly? I was hoping it would.” He stood and brushed off his palms. “Self-defense classes don’t give you supernatural healing.”

He really wasn’t helping himself out much.

“It’s MMA,” Stiles corrected flatly. “And supernatural healing only gets you so far.” He’d personally see all kinds of horrific shit beat out supernatural healing, only to be fixed by good old human ingenuity, so Derek could take that old excuse and shove it up his human-rescued-at-least-fifteen-times ass. And that was all before they’d started doing whatever the fuck they were doing, so it was honestly ridiculous that he thought that old shtick would work now that Stiles had real skin in the game.

Derek sighed, tired. “Stiles–”

“No,” Stiles interrupted immediately, because he knew where that tone of voice was going and it only pissed him off even more. “If you think you can trick me into leaving you here to fight off vampires on your own, then you are actually even stupider than I thought, and I say that remembering that you didn’t know what Neosporin was.”

Cheap shot because he knew that Derek had never needed to use a first aid kit in his entire life, but he punched his kind-of-sort-of-not-really-boyfriend in the face not minutes ago, he was playing dirty. “I am not going to walk away while you march into assisted suicide in some stupid throwback to your brooding martyr days, okay, you have a house now–you have plants!”

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I wish you’d write a fic where... Laura plays matchmaker for Derek and Stiles!

The car rolled to a stop outside of the fanciest restaurant in town and Derek sighed instinctively. He turned to his sister behind the wheel, who was severely underdressed for this place, and said,

“Laura, I asked you to stop doing this.”

She smiled guiltily—actually guiltily, so at least she really felt bad about this time.

“I know, and I promise I wouldn’t have set this up if I didn’t think you two would hit it off. But—”

Derek rolled his eyes. “You said that about Marcus.” Laura nodded, accepting the blame. “And Rose. And Trevor. And—”

“I get it!” she interrupted. “I’ve misjudged, but I’ve taken all that feedback you gave me—loudly and with a lot of swearing—and I’ve really gotten to know this guy! I did background checks and everything!”

“Those online background checks aren’t as accurate as you think.” Derek should know; two of his exes were squeaky clean according to those checks…right up until the assault and attempted arson and all of the organized crime.

“I know, I remember, and don’t worry about it. That won’t be an issue with this one.” She grinned. “He had impeccable references.”

That was a new one.

“You called references?”

“I talked to every single one of his coworkers, and a smattering of his Facebook friends, particularly ones from high school he doesn’t seem to talk to anymore.” She shrugged at Derek’s raised eyebrow. “If they don’t talk to him anymore, I wanted to make sure it wasn’t for a crazy reason.”

He had to admit, that was reassuring, if only minorly.

She smiled softly. “Trust me, Derek. I wouldn’t put you through this if I didn’t really think it would work.”

Derek held back his kneejerk response of, then why didn’t you just introduce us at a friendly brunch like a normal person, and returned her smile. Somewhat.

“If he sucks, I’m never talking to you ever again,” he said, and got out of the car before she could respond. He didn’t look back either, because she was probably watching him with a wistful smile on her face like a mom sending her child off to their first day of school.

A doorman led him through the formal lobby into the restaurant and up to the host, who greeted him warmly from behind his podium.

“Name?”

“Derek Hale.”

The host ran his finger down the handwritten ledger and checked his name off with a perfect checkmark. There was another name written next to his, but he couldn’t read the loopy, old fashioned cursive upside down, and it felt odd to ask who his date was.

He was led through the dimly lit restaurant to a booth on the back wall. It was out of the way of server traffic to the kitchen, a little secluded with the high backs of the booths, and every table was lit with a calmly flickering candle. It was the perfect place for a cozy, romantic date. Laura knew what she was doing.

With nothing else to do and feeling uncomfortable about it, he glanced around the dim restaurant at the other diners. Most were nicely dressed couples, a few larger booths were clearly business meetings, there seemed to be a teenage girl’s birthday dinner happening in a private room behind closed french doors. It was crowded but not very loud; no one talked above a civil indoor voice, and even the small quartet playing in the corner kept it down.

This was really not his type of place.

He turned his attention to the menu to keep from obsessively watching the door for whoever he was meeting.

The menus were hefty, hardback books that only had two pages; one dish for each type of meat and a vegetarian option. It was all in French, which Derek could speak, but that wasn’t always a good sign on a menu in America.

(There was a tiny part of his paranoid brain wondering if it was all part of Laura’s plan. She was definitely the type to think that translating the menu for a date was adorable.)

“Oh god,” a familiar voice said, and when Derek looked up to see who it was, he dropped his menu onto his plates—three, stacked neatly—with a clatter.

A few of the surrounding tables glanced back at the minor commotion, which might as well have been a scream in the calm and hushed atmosphere of the restaurant, but Derek couldn’t bring himself to care, because Deputy Stilinski was coming towards his table with purpose. Not about to arrest you purpose, not in that well fitting suit. But with I had no idea you were my date and I’m not happy about it purpose.

Derek could relate.

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THE ONE WITH ALL THE KISSING or THE ONE WITH FREE PORN or THE ONE WITH ALL THE JEALOUSY, so excited

The One With All The Jealousy

Derek’s not staring at Stiles.  He’s not.  It’s just – there’s a guy and he keeps putting his hands on Stiles; leaning in and touching the crook of Stiles’ elbow; laughing and clapping a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.  The worst thing is that Stiles isn’t moving away.  It’s like he’s enjoying it.

“Dude.” Scott nudges Derek with his elbow and makes a face at him.  "Why don’t you just talk to him?“

Letting out a long suffering sigh, Derek ignores Scott and takes a swig of his beer.  The guy is still talking to Stiles, and now Stiles is smiling back at him.  Flexing his hand, Derek shifts on the barstool, trying to stop his claws from coming out.  "I’m going home,” he says when he sees Stiles making his way over to them, dragging the guy with him.

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You know leda!! You KNOW who! (Number 2)

Forehead kiss!