Sterek One Shots

3 AM

3 Am by Angel Reid . Tobias Dominik

Three am is an old friend of Stiles'; they've met several times throughout his life, sometimes in his bedroom and sometimes (more recent times) outside, running around like his life depended on it. This three am fell on a Tuesday night on which his father was working a double shift, found him sitting in his room at his computer, diligently clicking through link after link on his laptop. He could have gone out, he supposed; snuck out his window and gone out into the darkness of the night, his father completely unaware of any activity he might partake in. He knew his dad was stuck in his office at the station, knew that he'd only taken the double shift to finish the pile of paper work Stiles knew was sitting, probably precariously on his desk, due to the activities of the pack. He knew, but he really couldn't be bothered, not with Kanima's and werewolves and crazy old men hunters happening. No, he felt safe inside his room, where nothing could possibly go wrong.

Safe. Really. Safe...and boring. Seriously, one hundred percent boring. He was pretty sure Scott would kill him if he tried to call him, because it was three am and normal teenagers were fast asleep (or possibly sneaking onto Allison's roofs to watch her sleep, but who was he to judge?) in their beds. He'd done it before, and Scott hadn't spoken to him for two days after, every text sent to him returned with 'THREE AM STILES WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU'. He hadn't meant to wake up Scott; he just hadn't really thought anything on the time when he'd sent his messages. He sometimes forgot that he was the only one awake that late out of his small group of friends, besides the werewolves and really he didn't think that Derek would appreciate a late night phone call.

He closed the browser he'd been surfing on, shutting his laptop off and closing the lid as he slid it away from him. There was nothing interesting happening on Facebook, nothing on Tumblr or Twitter to keep him occupied. He sat a moment, taking in the silence of the house as he closed his eyes and lent his head back to rest on his chair, the entire seat tilting with his weight. There was nothing, no subtle hum of electronics or sounds of animals or other people flittering around downstairs. His father's snores were absent, and it brought to mind of a time immediately after his mother's death, when his father had spent more time at work and less time in the home he had made for his now shattered family. Stiles took a breath, exhaling loudly to break the quiet, eyes remaining closed as he tried to will his body to slow down for a moment or two. He was use to this, to being alone and being awake and everything it entailed.

Usually he studied, or read- sometimes he was lucky enough to catch a monster movie marathon on the movie channel, or HBO would be running a program he was interested in and that would occupy his mind for at least a period of time. Tonight there was nothing on, no movie or show to catch his attention. He listened to the sound of his own breathing, wondering if this was what it felt like to go crazy. He'd often thought about it, about if he would realize he was going crazy or if it would just sneak up on him until hello! Have you seen Crazy man Stiles? He never sleeps and talks a mile a minute about werewolves and hey, don't go near him, he's crazy!

"Stiles. I can hear you thinking from here." Derek's voice, his mind supplied him, was soft- as if he were trying to keep anyone from hearing the vague concern Stiles could just barely hear over the sound of Derek's annoyance. He opened his eyes, spinning his chair to face his window where, surprise surprise, Derek was leaning against the window pane.

"Have you never heard of knocking? Or home invasion? Or B&E, which I'm pretty sure this is considered because it's three in the morning. Hi. What are you doing here?" Derek's brow rose, and Stiles offered him a grin, gesturing to his room in a wide, sweeping motion. "I mean, mi casa su casa, apparently, since you always just let yourself in." Derek snorted, moving to sit on Stiles' bed, and the human couldn't help but wonder if Derek was dirty from running around all night.

"Just checking up on the pack. You're lights been on all night, I figured I'd stop in to see if you'd finally lost it. Your dad's not home?" Stiles rolled his eyes, pushing his foot against his desk to spin his chair with a sigh.

"Is he ever? He's working a double shift. Which is good, I guess, I saw how much paper work he had on his desk. But he's going to be so tired tomorrow...it just sucks, you know? Half of that paperwork is probably our fault." He let his head drop onto the back of the chair, closing his eyes as he listened to Derek move on his bed.

"I'm sure your dad knows what he's doing. He just wants to keep Beacon Hills safe. But you should be sleeping. You have school and a pack meeting tomorrow." Stiles snorted, glancing over to where Derek had apparently made himself comfortable on his bed.

"What? Yeah alright dad, sheesh. I did try to go to sleep, you know. At like, one thirty. It went about as well as the Hindenburg. I just..." He flailed, and Derek gave him a look of 'what' mixed with 'you are so ADHD Stiles' which, really, he was use to. He was. Scott gave it to him all the time. "Wait, do you check in on Scott like this? Sneaking into windows in the dead of night, telling him he needs his beauty rest?" Derek stared at him, and he moved to stand, throwing his hands in the air. "What? It can't be just me you stalk man."

"I don't stalk you. And Scott's sleeping, like a good boy. Will you- Jesus Christ, Stiles, lay down or something. You're making me tired just looking at you." Stiles rolled his eyes, but moved to shove Derek over, sliding onto the bed next to him. Derek watched him, sharp eyes taking in the dark circles under Stiles' eyes and the rapid beating of his heart. The teen needed sleep, anyone could see it. It wasn't the first night that Derek had watched Stiles pace around his empty house, listening in as Stiles talked to himself even as he read or did chores.

"What are you going to do, sing me to sleep? I'm a fan of soft kitty, if you know it. We gunna cuddle?" Stiles' voice came off as surly, but Derek caught the underlying tone of loneliness, of never getting to fall asleep knowing someone else was there. Rolling his eyes, he rolled onto his side, wrapping an arm around Stiles' body and pulling him against him, dragging him until his body was curved to fit against the werewolves. Stiles' mouth opened as if to say something, and Derek covered it with his hand, resting his chin on Stiles' shoulder.

"Just...shut up. You're not alone tonight. Go to sleep, and never speak of this to anyone. Or I'll rip out your throat with my teeth." Stiles closed his mouth, blinking rapidly in the darkness as Derek switched off his lamp, confused by Derek's actions but not complaining. Derek's arm tightened slightly around him, and he let out a huff, reaching up to hold onto the arm around him.

"Wait, why do I have to be the little spoon?"