obroech:

andavs:

I was bored so I did one of those “draw your favorite character in what you’re currently wearing” things. 

The thing is, Stiles is used to walking into Derek’s apartment unannounced, and yeah, he’s used to finding Derek barely clothed and using a doorframe in lieu of a pull-up bar. In fact, if he thinks about it, it’s not as though Stiles hasn’t seen Derek naked, so really, nothing should come as a surprise at this point: this shouldn’t be so difficult for Stiles to process.

  But it is.

  Because Derek’s wearing a cardigan.

  It’s not one of those cotton, v-neck, button-down deals that every eighteen to thirty year old seems to have accumulated over the past year or two – it’s not even a ‘dad’ cardigan: it’s–it’s fuzzy.

  And don’t even get Stiles started on the fluffy slipper socks or the fact he’s not wearing pants under the oversized shirt he’s swimming in, because he’s stuck on the cardigan and can’t even begin to process the rest.

  The cardigan is fuzzy and warm looking, the sleeves so long and perhaps a little stretched out that one of them has had to be rolled back to reveal Derek’s hand.

  Up until now, Derek’s been firmly in the jeans-Henley-and-cotton-socks gang. Maybe slipping on a pair of – sinful – sweatpants or swapping the Henley for a v-neck if he’s feeling adventurous but never–and Stiles would like to stress, never–has he done anything to suggest he’d rather be curled up on his couch in fluffy socks and cardigans.

  Because Stiles is pretty sure, abruptly, that he never wants to see Derek in his jeans-and-Henley combo ever again. He comes to this realisation as he meanders across the apartment to flop down onto the other end of the couch (Derek lifts his feet absently and places them back down in Stiles’ lap all without looking up from his book) because this new, comfortable-with-being-comfortable Derek is doing things to him.

  Things, Stiles thinks, that Derek might be interested in helping him with, if the coy smirk suddenly playing around Derek’s mouth is anything to go by.

I’m so so sorry, but this idea wouldn’t leave me alone. 

The cardigan? It’s Isaac’s. The t-shirt? It’s Boyd’s. And the fuzzy slipper socks/boots are Erica’s (shut up Stiles big feet are a Reyes family curse). Because Derek likes to smell like his pack. 

But he hasn’t stolen borrowed anything from Stiles yet. Really, Derek would rather Stiles just left his scent all over Derek’s sheets.