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Stiles parked Roscoe in front of the house, grabbed the box from the passenger seat, and slammed the door closed with his hip. He used his knee to support the box, while trying to sort through his keyring with one hand. Finding the right key, he flipped open the lock and slipped into the house. His keys went onto the line of hooks in the entryway, and he dropped off the box on the kitchen counter.
“Derek!” he called into the house. “Are you home?” There was no reply, and Stiles couldn’t hear any movement from upstairs.
He grabbed a soda from the fridge and ran his hand down the photos that they had taken at a photobooth in the mall, smiling at the memory of one of their early dates. The photos weren’t the best; photobooth photos rarely were, but Stiles loved them all the same. They had earned a permanent place of honor on their fridge.
The sliding door was cracked open and the curtain ruffled with a slight breeze. Stiles placed his can on the counter, walking over to the door and sticking his head out. “Derek?”
A howl answered his call.
He squinted toward the edge of their yard, where the small clearing met the tree line. A wolf emerged, running towards him.
“Woah!” Stiles held out his hands in a placating manner. Derek curbed his speed in the final stretch, but it wasn’t enough. Stiles lost his balance and started falling backwards. He barely managed to put a hand down to cushion the fall.
“I get thrown on my ass by enough supernatural creatures as it is.” Stiles said as he stood back up, wiping the dirt off the front of his pants. “I don’t need you to start too.” Derek looked down, his ears folding close to his head, as if to apologize, but Stiles knew that his behavior was unlikely to change based on the wagging of his tail. Stiles smiled, “You’re lucky I love you.”
Derek leaned in, his snout coming to rest against Stiles’ stomach, nosing softly at the crease of his hip. While he couldn’t verbally respond in this form, Stiles’ received the message loud and clear: I love you too.
“At least let me clean your paws off.” Stiles sighed, herding him onto the doormat just inside the sliding door. He gave Derek a stern look, but his eyes showed mirth. “The employees at the cleaning company already give us judgmental looks during our deep clean appointments. We don’t need any more mud tracked into the house.”
Derek dutifully raised each paw so that Stiles could gently wipe them with a spare rag.
As soon as his last paw was clean, Derek ran in a circle around Stiles, effectively herding him in return. Stiles crouched down, letting the wolf follow his instincts to scent him. It was several minutes until Derek was satisfied, signaling that the scenting was over by rubbing his face into Stiles' neck one last time and leaving to go to the living room.
Stiles smiled as he watched Derek go. There was a time where Derek wouldn’t show him his full shift, fearing that the more animalistic instincts would scare him away. Those feelings were largely dealt with after a situation with a malevolent witch four months after they had officially started dating. Derek’s insecurities still reared their head during particularly rough days, but for the most part they had dissipated with trust, reassurance, and time.
Stiles grabbed the box, bracing it under one arm and picked up his soda with the other. The corner of the box banged into the doorframe when he turned into the living room, and he just barely managed to save it from falling onto the floor.
Derek’s head looked over in his direction at the sound, but he didn’t make any effort to move off of the couch, where he’d stretched out from end-to-end.
“You look like you had fun today,” Stiles said, placing the box on coffee table and bending over to find a coaster for his drink. “I stopped by my dad’s house and picked up a few more of my things. He’s been working on cleaning out the attic and found some old comics that I forgot when I moved.”
Crossing his arms, Stiles stared down at Derek until the wolf moved so that he was only taking up three-quarters of the couch, leaving just enough room for Stiles to squeeze into. Derek’s head made its way onto his lap. He tilted his head so that he could look Stiles in the eyes, giving a pitiful whine.
Rolling his eyes, Stiles’ hand lifted up enough to comb through Derek’s fur. He got a deep, contented rumble in response; Derek’s eyes drifting shut at the soft ministrations. “I wanted to run some ideas by you about the case we’re working on,” Stiles said, still absentmindedly petting Derek, “I think I’ve narrowed it down to three possibilities: wyvern, mantic—”
Derek leaned up and licked his face, effectively cutting him off. “Eww.” Stiles used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe off the excess slobber. “Unnecessary, dude.” He ran a hand between Derek’s ears, leaning his head back to avoid getting licked again. “Seriously, I think I might have a few leads we should follow up on for this case—”
Suddenly, more of Derek’s weight was suddenly on top of Stiles. The wolf was sniffing his hair and kneading his paws into the other man’s chest, almost as if he was pouting. “Fine, fine! You win.” Stiles laughed and put his arms up, trying to protect his face has the sniffing turned into zealous licks. “We can deal with it tomorrow.”
Stiles reached out, careful not to displace the wolf on his chest, and was able to just barely reach his hand into the box he’d brought home. After blindly rummaging around, he pulled out a random well-loved Batman comic book.
“Ooh… this is a good one!” Stiles leaned back against the couch, sinking into the cushions and leeching warmth from where Derek was draped across his lap. Propping the comic up between them, he flipped it open with one hand, using the other to gently pet down the length of Derek’s back. “I must have read this dozens of times when I was a kid.”
Derek shifted his weight to get comfortable, cushioning his head in his paws and closing his eyes.
Stiles snorted when he noticed Derek’s position. “Making me do all the work, I see.” The only response he received was Derek shifting to lean into Stiles’ hand, giving a small whine when he didn’t immediately start petting him.
It only took one more whine before Stiles acquiesced and started petting long broad strokes up and down Derek’s fur. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he returned to the comic, which had fallen askew when Derek had moved. Stiles moved his hand so that the long body-length strokes turned into gentle, concentrated petting on Derek’s head and upper body.
Any remaining tension in Derek’s body further dissipated. Stiles felt even more of Derek’s weight as he fully relaxed. He nuzzled into Stile’s touch, and Stiles smiled at the action. Neither of them moved, both content to enjoy the peaceful moment that they so rarely got.
He reached out to take a drink before burrowing deeper into the couch and beginning, “Gotham. June 03, 20XX.”