It was a couple of days later that Boyd and Erica showed up in Stiles' bedroom. Again, through the front door. God, his Dad was torturing him with his non-interference and no questions about the sudden number of school friends wanting to visit Stiles' bedroom. They both looked fine, thank you handy werewolf super-healing. Despite that, and as much as Erica sneered at Stiles' décor, there was something in her and Boyd's eyes that Stiles recognized. Welcome to the kidnapping survival club.

"So I'm guessing this isn't about my awesome research skills."

Boyd smiled "Not this time."

Erica blew off any attempt at subtlety and lay down on Stiles' bed. She kicked her shoes off with a satisfied sigh. "It's going to be a tight fit."

"Hey! Haven't you got your own beds at the den?"

Erica rolled her eyes and nestled down, getting comfortable. "Not really the point, Batman."

"It's the fact that it's your bed and you're here," added Boyd, because he was the helpful werewolf with answers instead of sarcasm and mocking.

It was starting to piece together in Stiles' head. Boyd and Erica had suffered first Gerard kidnapping them, then whatever had happened to them when they'd met the Alpha pack. They'd obviously healed physically, but apparently they needed something else, with Stiles, who'd also been kidnapped. And clearly the first rule of this kidnapping survivors club was that you didn't talk about it.

Boyd was watching him and must have seen something important in Stiles' expression, because in the next moment he sat down on the bed and pulled his jacket and shirt off. Stiles swallowed a little, because Boyd was not difficult to look at. Erica smirked at the look on Stiles' face. Boyd just smiled and lay down behind Erica, wrapping his arms comfortably around her. They both looked expectantly at Stiles.

He hadn't gotten a full night's sleep in days. He woke up a lot, gasping, panicking, remembering Gerard's threats and fists. He remembered the words and how they'd scraped him raw. He remembered how his reflection had stared at him out of the bathroom mirror. He could see that same look in Boyd and Erica's eyes now. He had slept better when Isaac had been lying beside him.

With a put-upon sigh, he kicked off his shoes and was out of his first shirt before remembering that taking his pants off in front of the wolves was not a good idea. Erica catcalled as he made a quick dash to the bathroom where he spat out toothpaste, changed into sleep shorts, and stared for too long into the mirror.

The bed was crowded and overheated, but Boyd and Erica pulled him insistently close. Boyd's hand rested on his hip and Erica touched her head briefly to his before giving him a little breathing room and leaving her arm across his body. Stiles tried not to fidget and disturb the two werewolves. He'd never shared a bed with more than one person before. It was less awkward than he'd expected. Okay, it was still ridiculously awkward, but they weren't doing the werewolf healing magic and they looked really comfortable and content together in his bed. And considering what they'd been through recently, that was pretty cool.

Sleep was starting to steal over Stiles so he arranged himself carefully and prayed to any God who'd listen that he wouldn't wake up with his hands on Erica's chest because she'd either kill him or embarrass him to death, like by telling his father about it. God.

The sleep was as restful as it had been when Isaac had been present. This time though, in the morning Stiles woke up alone. He could hear the shower running and somebody was downstairs talking to his father. Boyd? His Dad sounded amused. Huh. He so knew about werewolves. Boyd and Erica wouldn't have stayed so far into the morning otherwise. Thank God it was the weekend.

Erica stuck her head round the door, her hair dark and dripping down her back. She looked refreshed and happy. Stiles felt a little smug that he'd helped make that happen. That feeling of goodwill lasted for all of a few seconds; right up until Erica opened her mouth.

"Thanks for drooling on me. How long do you think it'll be before you're house-trained?"

Stiles glared. He did not drool that much. Besides "Oh, so it's okay for you to scent-mark me but you can't handle a little Stiles drool?"

Erica smirked and darted close super-fast to rub teasingly and briefly against his side. Stiles willed himself to stay still – if he made any sudden uncomfortable movements, then she'd just do it for longer - and averted his eyes from her distracting chest. He deserved a medal for succeeding in both.

"Your Dad's making pancakes."

She grabbed a jacket – black leather of course – and tossed her wet hair over her shoulder as she left. Stiles transferred his gaze to the bed. He should probably wash the sheets, but maybe the pack wouldn't need to visit him for a while. Maybe the smell they'd left behind would help him to sleep better in their absence.

He was still contemplating the idea when Derek vaulted easily in through the window. Stiles jumped, though not as violently as he sometimes did at sudden Hale appearances. He counted that as a victory.

"Your pups are downstairs eating my Dad's superior breakfast pancakes. You're welcome, by the way."

Derek scented the air and nodded at the rumpled bed. "They're still...processing."

Something unfolded in Stiles' chest. He tried not to sound too invested with his next words. "And you suggested my room would help with that?"

Derek looked at him, but he didn't roll his eyes and he didn't sound or look annoyed. "It helps for the pack to be together. Isaac's with Scott and Allison. Jackson and Lydia need each other. You..."

Stiles had been through what Boyd and Erica had. He was the right person for the job. They'd all gotten an undisturbed night's sleep. That did leave one question though, and Stiles didn't want to disturb the really pleasant peace that was the current vibe between him and Derek but this needed to be said. Because no one else was asking it and somebody really needed to.

"So who helps you?"

Derek didn't answer. He did watch Stiles for a few moments more. Stiles' heartbeat sounded really loud in his own ears. How loud was it to Derek?

Maybe it wasn't that loud when he was probably overwhelmed by the strong smell of Stiles' want. Stiles abruptly cleared his throat. "There's going to be extra pancakes, you really don't want to miss out."

There was that flickering again in Derek's expression. But he didn't stay. He nodded at Stiles before disappearing silently out the window.

Stiles fell back onto his bed, trying to slow his quickening heartbeat and stop the flush caused by the look that had been in Derek's eyes.

And downstairs were two werewolves who wouldn't hesitate to comment on just why Stiles was looking so frazzled. Oh, fuck his life.

Jackson and Lydia curled up next to him on the couch a few days later. The pack had been watching a movie and now most were lazing in various combinations. Stiles was smooshed in the middle of Jackson and Lydia. Jackson was a restless sleeper, unsurprisingly, and whilst Stiles was a little unnerved by the idea of sharing close personal space with the former giant lizard who'd regularly tried to kill them, Jackson was heartbreakingly obvious in his need for the tactileness of the pack. He still insulted and shoved and sneered. But the others were helping him deal with his wolf and no matter how he postured, the fact that he needed them was always front and center.

So Stiles snarked back and didn't comment when Jackson leaned against him and gave a satisfied sigh. Lydia made contact with him from the other side of Stiles, her leg stretched across his lap. It would have been the stuff of Stiles' dreams a few short weeks ago. But really, Lydia and Jackson had always been intertwined even when they'd broken up and their powerful reunion had just been a final punch in the face reality check.

It was surprisingly okay to be wrapped up in them. In fact, it felt as comfortable as the times Scott and Allison curled up together and included him, Allison laughing at Stiles' complaints that Scott hadn't outgrown his habit of kicking in his sleep. It was a good warm feeling, like lying beside pack members always was.

When he next looked up, Derek was leaning against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on Stiles. Stiles wet his lips and silently tried to persuade his heart to keep quiet. He was in a room full of werewolves, for fuck's sake. And, yet despite what he'd clearly picked up on, Derek didn't snarl or look disgusted or even vaguely amused. He didn't make one of his strategic exits either, the ones he usually made whenever Stiles pushed him past his comfort zones.

Instead, he looked sort of…fond. Maybe because he was looking at the pack and they were all actually resting instead of arguing or indulging in the usual state of chaos. But his gaze was fixed more particularly on Stiles, and Jackson and Lydia wrapped around him having a pack nap.

Stiles forced himself to hold Derek's gaze for a few long minutes – his heart still racing. He was apparently the pack's favorite cuddle blanket which was more than a little embarrassing, yes, but if it meant that everybody got better sleep including him, then fine, cuddle away. Stiles snuggled down to try and join the others in sleep. Drowsily, he could hear Derek pushing Isaac over to make room for himself on the floor. Derek was actually going to stay, when the Sheriff could walk in at any time now. Huh. That wouldn't last long.

But when the Sheriff did arrive home, Derek was still there. Stiles didn't know which fact he was more shocked by – that his Dad's only reaction to the pile of sleeping teenagers in his front room was to remind Stiles that it was his turn to cook tonight and to have fun with that, or that Derek had actually stayed when he'd heard the Sheriff park up outside and that he then stayed for dinner afterward.

The wolves were their usual tactile selves as they ate, and again his Dad didn't comment, but damn it Stiles was not going to blink first. So he ended up with full contented werewolves leaning against him by the time dessert was retrieved from the fridge. It was nice. It was better than unwashed sheets, which were the only comfort he had when sleeping alone now. Nights alone were the only times that his nightmares returned.

Stiles shook his head to clear that cheery thought and concentrated on breaking up a fight between Isaac and Jackson over the last piece of pie. He could smell Lydia's perfume, Jackson's overpowering deodorant, and the peachy shampoo that Erica had used that morning. He didn't have wolf senses but he was learning to use what he had and the familiarity comforted him. He always tried to commit the scents to memory, for the quiet nights alone. He didn't need to memorize Derek's. It was already impossible for him to forget.

The rain had been falling hard for days. It was getting treacherous to be traveling on tarmac, let alone through the woods, so Stiles didn't see many wolves for a while. His sleep patterns suffered accordingly. They all kept in touch thanks to the magic of cellphones and the internet but it really wasn't the same. At least they all had somebody – Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were all holed up together, Lydia and Jackson had each other, and Allison and Scott were a no-brainer. So whilst they all missed pack-time, they all had someone to lessen the temporary blow. Stiles had his computer, his cellphone, and a bedroom window that had not been opened for a while.

Of course, when the rain was at its worst and an honest to God thunder and lightning storm was happening was when that changed.

Stiles had just managed to drift off to sleep when his window loudly opened and Derek slid through. And now the rain was falling onto his desk and all of his work. Stiles startled upright, turning on the lamp beside him with a flail. His eyes screwed shut against the sudden light.

"My research, dude! Stop the flood!"

He was pulling the duvet back to deal with it when Derek shut the window. Stiles sagged back in relief. Then squinted one eye open. Derek was soaked through. Leather was his thing, and it suited him to an absurd degree, but it didn't keep the rain off.

"Do I want to know why you were running in the middle of a storm? Are we getting a plague of frogs soon? Are there mermaids? Or…"

"Stiles."

Derek was glaring at him and wow, he actually smelled like wet dog. That was hilarious. Stiles couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face. Derek clearly knew what he was thinking because, once he'd stripped off his sodden jacket and squelched out of his shoes, he took very purposeful steps towards Stiles' bed and that wasn't sexy at all. Nope, it really wasn't.

Stiles hurried to talk. "Towels are in the hall closet. My Dad's downstairs so maybe keep it..."

Stiles' sentence went unfinished because Derek had already sped out of the door. He returned with a large green beach towel. The Sheriff wasn't coming upstairs, he wasn't even asking who Stiles was speaking to. Because he probably already knew. Probably. The waiting game was killer and his Dad was a master at it.

And Derek was peeling his t-shirt off.

"Hey, woah..."

Stiles couldn't stop looking because hello, Derek's unfeasibly cut body. He could watch while Derek was drying himself off, right? That totally wasn't weird. Not at all. It was too wet out there for Derek to be in the den, which wouldn't offer much solid protection against the weather. He'd sent Erica and Isaac to be with Boyd and his family. He could wait it out in Stiles' room. That made sense.

Right, total sense, except that Derek was now taking his jeans off. Stiles gaped for a few brief seconds before lying down very quickly indeed. He turned the lamp off, hoping the dark covered his blushes. No big deal. Derek was just mostly naked in his room. No big deal at all. Only he hadn't told Derek where the air mattress and blankets were kept, which meant that Derek would assume that, like the other pack members, he'd be sleeping in…

There was a weighted dip on the bed. Stiles bit his lip. He wasn't going to say anything. He should say something.

Derek prowled up the bed and lay down. There was a little bit of space between them. Stiles tried hard not to breathe. Derek Hale was in his bed. And his Dad was downstairs and probably aware of this fact. Oh God.

"Stiles." Hearing Derek growl his name did not help at all. "Calm down."

Right, because his heart was racing. Stiles croaked out a laugh and hunched further down into the covers. He was fine. He was going to sleep beside Derek Hale. An almost naked Derek Hale. And...

His train of thought completely short-circuited when Derek wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, right back against Derek's firm chest. Because the pack cuddled, it was what they did. Only usually there wasn't so much skin on display. Stiles willed his heartrate to slow, for Derek not to smell his raging hormonal reaction to the whole situation. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Stiles."

That tone was different. And Derek was pushing his face into the crook of Stiles' neck. Stiles swallowed down a squeak and tried not to tremble. Derek's hand stroked down his side, like he was quietening an animal. Stiles' skin felt hot. Derek didn't stop touching him. There was a small graze of teeth against Stiles' neck. Then a tongue, a very thorough tongue.

If Derek was doing this to calm him down, it wasn't working. At all.

Derek made a noise deep in his chest. It sounded...contented. Stiles' fingers unclenched from around his pillow. He wasn't the only one who'd been without a pack-mate the past few days, though he couldn't see Derek doing this with any of the others. He reallyhoped that this wasn't just a pack thing. Hesitantly, he rested a hand on Derek's where it was massaging Stiles' hip. It only lasted a second, but Derek definitely paused. Stiles smiled. He was awesome. His heartbeat agreed.

Derek held him a little tighter. His tongue and teeth were still leisurely working on Stiles' neck. Stiles tilted his head to give the Alpha better access, because it felt really good and he really didn't want Derek to come to his senses and stop.

He managed to gasp out. "I…ah…okay, this definitely doesn't happen to me when the others sleep here."

"Good."

The possessiveness in Derek's voice shouldn't have made Stiles let out a whine but it did and he nestled back against Derek and oh…Derek was hard. Derek didn't seem embarrassed about that at all. In fact, he growled against Stiles' neck and arranged their bodies to his satisfaction before nuzzling against Stiles' shoulder and neck.

"Sleep, Stiles."

Stiles hesitated, half-turning his head, because he could definitely feel how interested Derek was against his thigh. Sleep did not seem like the normal next step in this situation. Not that Stiles had much experience in whatever the normal next step was, but it just seemed like…

"Don't you…I mean, I could…"

Derek's hand was gentle on his chest. "Sleep, Stiles."

Stiles bit his lip and hmmed. It felt like the sort of moment to say something, to push a little, to make sure that this wasn't a crazy cabin fever one-time-only situation. He quirked a kind of tentative grin into his pillow and managed a whispery invitation of almost-movement against the firm body behind him.

"Another time then."

He felt Derek smirk against his shoulder. Then the brief nip of teeth there that felt like a promise.

-the end