“Oh come on,” Stiles says, tipping his head a little to brush his lips against Derek’s. “You’d be bored out of your mind if I wasn’t here to badger you every once in a while.”
Derek arches an eyebrow. “’Every once in a while’? More like every waking minute.”
Pouting, Stiles asks, “Don’t you enjoy my company?”
Derek leans into Stiles again, pinning him against the washing machine and cupping his jaw before running a thumb over Stiles’ bottom lip. He kisses the pout right off, licking into Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles arches into him.
“I wouldn’t be in a safe place without you,” Derek admits in a quiet voice. Stiles stares at him open-mouthed, unable to form a coherent sentence, let alone a single thought. A furiously warm feeling sweeps through him. Derek isn’t one to confess a lot of things or talk about his emotions, so this is actually something huge.
“You’re not in a safe place, Derek,” Stiles says faintly.
“Maybe not,” Derek agrees. The intensity of his look is almost too much to bear. “I’m in a better place than I could have imagined, though. Your company—you are my safe place.”
“I need fresh pants,” Stiles declares, for a lack of something else to say.