"I believed it, you know." Stiles mumbled. His forehead was pressed against Derek's collarbone as they laid in Derek's bed, similar to the way they were three weeks before when Stiles was possessed. He had gotten out of the hospital a few days before and convinced his dad to let him stay the night with Derek, because sleeping with the older werewolf seemed to be the only way he could actually get an hour of good sleep in.
"Hmm?" Derek asked, loosening his grip on Stiles, allowing the boy to shift his head back in order to speak clearly.
"He told me I was a liability," Stiles said, his tone glum. "It was probably my fault, I let him in."
"First of all," Derek began. "You are not a liability. You are the most valuable in the pack, I guarantee it. Everyone can be strong and fast like the werewolves or be psychic or great with a bow and arrow, but you are you." Stiles sighed, pulling Derek closer to him, allowing the older man to wrap one hand around into his hair, the second draped across his waist.
"I love you," Stiles mumbled, relishing in the heat that Derek provided. The exit of the Nogitsune from his body also made it more difficult for him to stay warm; it was beginning to be spring and he could barely go outside without a coat and a long sleeve shirt.
He felt Derek smile against the top of his head, a soft kiss being pressed against his scalp.
"I love you too, Stiles." Derek said. "Now, you can go to sleep, you're safe here." Stiles nodded sleepily, already halfway there, letting the werewolf's heartbeat against his cheek lull him into a comfortable slumber.
One that was nightmare, Nogitsune, and panic attack free.
YOU ARE READING
He thought the door to his mind was closed. Really, he did. But, it seems, after a car crash and a mysterious reappearance, Stiles isn't all Stiles. (COMPLETED)