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Pairing/Characters: Derek/Stiles
Rating: PG
Words: 600
Summary: Thursday is Stiles' favourite day of the week.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Future fic. Pure fluff. :D Originally written for this prompt on the kink meme.
Thursday is Stiles’ favourite day of the week.
Every Thursday, Stiles gets home at two o’clock. Thursdays are Derek’s day off, the one day where he can sleep in and wake up slowly, can put his stresses behind him for a while. Every Thursday is like a vacation for both of them, something to look forward to every week, something that makes every other day worthwhile. It’s the one day where they can relax together, where they can lounge in bed all afternoon if they feel like it, can lie around watching TV, can actually sit down and eat dinner together. It’s the one day where their schedules meet up, the only day when Derek’s not working and Stiles isn’t at school all day.
When Stiles gets home, the house is silent. There’s no sound from the living room, no clanging in the kitchen. Frowning, he kicks his shoes off and makes his way to their bedroom.
When he opens the door, he finds Derek curled up on the bed in a nest of blankets, snoring softly. Stiles chuckles and worms his way under the blankets, hands seeking warm skin. He settles against Derek’s side and kisses his shoulder, runs a hand through Derek’s messy hair.
“Mornin’,” Derek mumbles, voice scratchy, eyes still closed. Stiles can’t help but smile - barely-awake Derek is one of his favourite things in the world. He presses his face into Derek’s neck, breathing in the smell of him.
“Not exactly morning, dude,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the corner of Derek’s mouth.
Derek groans when he pulls away, following his mouth. They kiss slowly for a few minutes, the familiar rhythm of their lips and hands like a comfort. Stiles sighs contentedly, pressing their foreheads together.
“How was class?” Derek asks. His eyes are cracked open now, soft and sleepy.
“It was good. I was thinking - I might want to change my minor again. Maybe. I don’t know,” Stiles says, shrugging.
Five years ago, if someone were to ask Stiles where he thought he’d be in the future, this wouldn’t have been anywhere near his answer. In college, learning things he’s actually interested in - no, he never would’ve pictured himself here. And Derek - the thought still startles him sometimes, the fact that he somehow ended up here, living with Derek. Actually living with Derek, in a real relationship. He has to remind himself, sometimes, that this is reality. This isn’t just some dream he’s going to wake up from. This is real.
And Derek - Derek is watching him with that patient, calm expression, like he’s genuinely interested in what Stiles is saying. Like he’s the lucky one. Stiles kisses him softly, squeezing his eyes shut. Derek’s hands are huge and calloused, warm and familiar on his back, tracing nonsensical patterns over Stiles’ skin.
The afternoon sun comes in through the windows in blocks of soft light, dappled with the shadows of leaves from the trees outside. They stay huddled in bed, wrapped up in one another, their feet tangled together. They take turns talking and kissing, always touching. Every smile Derek gives Stiles sends a rush of warmth through his body, makes his heart thump in his chest. Even after all this time, Derek still makes his heart race. Derek must hear it, or feel it, because he shuffles down and presses his cheek against Stiles’ chest, right over his heart, still smiling faintly.
Derek falls asleep like that, with Stiles running his hands through his hair. Stiles is stuck somewhere between laughing and wanting to stay as silent as possible, wishing he could freeze this moment and keep it forever. Thursdays, Stiles thinks, are the best days.
Rating: PG
Words: 600
Summary: Thursday is Stiles' favourite day of the week.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Future fic. Pure fluff. :D Originally written for this prompt on the kink meme.
Thursday is Stiles’ favourite day of the week.
Every Thursday, Stiles gets home at two o’clock. Thursdays are Derek’s day off, the one day where he can sleep in and wake up slowly, can put his stresses behind him for a while. Every Thursday is like a vacation for both of them, something to look forward to every week, something that makes every other day worthwhile. It’s the one day where they can relax together, where they can lounge in bed all afternoon if they feel like it, can lie around watching TV, can actually sit down and eat dinner together. It’s the one day where their schedules meet up, the only day when Derek’s not working and Stiles isn’t at school all day.
When Stiles gets home, the house is silent. There’s no sound from the living room, no clanging in the kitchen. Frowning, he kicks his shoes off and makes his way to their bedroom.
When he opens the door, he finds Derek curled up on the bed in a nest of blankets, snoring softly. Stiles chuckles and worms his way under the blankets, hands seeking warm skin. He settles against Derek’s side and kisses his shoulder, runs a hand through Derek’s messy hair.
“Mornin’,” Derek mumbles, voice scratchy, eyes still closed. Stiles can’t help but smile - barely-awake Derek is one of his favourite things in the world. He presses his face into Derek’s neck, breathing in the smell of him.
“Not exactly morning, dude,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the corner of Derek’s mouth.
Derek groans when he pulls away, following his mouth. They kiss slowly for a few minutes, the familiar rhythm of their lips and hands like a comfort. Stiles sighs contentedly, pressing their foreheads together.
“How was class?” Derek asks. His eyes are cracked open now, soft and sleepy.
“It was good. I was thinking - I might want to change my minor again. Maybe. I don’t know,” Stiles says, shrugging.
Five years ago, if someone were to ask Stiles where he thought he’d be in the future, this wouldn’t have been anywhere near his answer. In college, learning things he’s actually interested in - no, he never would’ve pictured himself here. And Derek - the thought still startles him sometimes, the fact that he somehow ended up here, living with Derek. Actually living with Derek, in a real relationship. He has to remind himself, sometimes, that this is reality. This isn’t just some dream he’s going to wake up from. This is real.
And Derek - Derek is watching him with that patient, calm expression, like he’s genuinely interested in what Stiles is saying. Like he’s the lucky one. Stiles kisses him softly, squeezing his eyes shut. Derek’s hands are huge and calloused, warm and familiar on his back, tracing nonsensical patterns over Stiles’ skin.
The afternoon sun comes in through the windows in blocks of soft light, dappled with the shadows of leaves from the trees outside. They stay huddled in bed, wrapped up in one another, their feet tangled together. They take turns talking and kissing, always touching. Every smile Derek gives Stiles sends a rush of warmth through his body, makes his heart thump in his chest. Even after all this time, Derek still makes his heart race. Derek must hear it, or feel it, because he shuffles down and presses his cheek against Stiles’ chest, right over his heart, still smiling faintly.
Derek falls asleep like that, with Stiles running his hands through his hair. Stiles is stuck somewhere between laughing and wanting to stay as silent as possible, wishing he could freeze this moment and keep it forever. Thursdays, Stiles thinks, are the best days.