Chapter Text
Derek wakes slowly, surfacing the act of two steps towards conciseness parried by one step back towards bone deep relaxation. The rhythmic sweep and gentile tug of Stiles’ carding his fingers through Derek’s fur from front shoulder to flank is such a delicious feeling that Derek can’t bother to muster any shame as he rolls over onto his back to offer up his belly.
Stiles huffs a laugh and shifts on the bed so that Derek’s head and neck rest on Stiles’ abdomen while the rest of Derek is nestled between the splay of his legs. Derek happily wriggles a little bit just because he can and it elicits another laugh from Stiles. The sound fond and gentile and so very welcome after having gone through two weeks without while Stiles was off doing Emissary things with Scott out in Iowa.
“Donno how you managed to do it big guy, but even in wolf form you look disheveled as hell and beyond burnt out,” Stiles’ tone is teasing but his scent is laced with a spicy bite. It took Derek way too long to figure out that that bite is tied to Stiles’ protective streak over the people he loves.
Stiles wraps his arms around Derek and hugs him tightly for a moment before he buries his fingers into Derek’s fur and pets him in long sure strokes, returning to the soothing rhythm he’d set earlier. And when he adds a bit of scratch with his nails as he draws both hands back up Derek’s belly and chest, Derek just sighs into the heady swell of endorphins that wash over his sleepy mind. Sometimes he wonders how he ever thought it was a good idea to go back to grad school and finish out his Master’s. The last three weeks have been the absolute hell of trying to get his thesis proposal completed and signed off on. At the same time he’s been dealing with a prof that’s riding out his last few years until retirement and is, as Stiles puts it, “a fucking four year old who throws temper tantrums and gives zero fucks about the health and well being of his TAs.”
“Shhh,” Stiles hushes and brings one of his hands up to cup the front of Derek’s throat that’s vibrating with a faint growl Derek didn’t even realize he was making. He cuts it out immediately and whines an apology. “It’s alright,” Stiles assure him as he smooths his hand up higher to cradles Derek’s jaw and tips his head back. While Stiles’ fingers scratch lightly at the short coarse fur under Derek’s chin, his lips place a soft kiss on the top of Derek’s muzzle.