authorkurikuri:

So my sister and I were talking about this post and how Stiles has been wearing lots of sweaters this season. And somehow our conversation wound around to Derek’s thumb-hole sweater, and my sister said, “Yeah, maybe Stiles is wearing Derek’s sweaters.”

And I just –

Stiles wearing Derek’s sweaters.

Derek’s up and left, but he didn’t completely clear out his loft. He took what he could carry, not his entire wardrobe. So maybe Stiles sneaks in one day, when he’s missing Derek more than usual, and stumbles across the sweaters. He stumbles across the sweaters buried in the bottom of Derek’s dresser and just… just holds onto one.

And he may not have a werewolf’s nose, but Derek’s scent is so ingrained in his clothing and Stiles just kind of buries his face in the soft fabric and breathes it in. It’s… soothing, somehow.

So Stiles figures that Derek’s not using them, and he doesn’t seem like he’s coming back anytime soon (or ever), so Stiles, well. He temporarily misappropriates them. And Scott wrinkles his nose and gives Stiles a funny look the first time he appears at the Stilinski house unannounced and finds Stiles lounging around the house in one, but he doesn’t say anything, lets it slide. So Stiles continues wearing them.

(The red thumb-hole sweater, though – his favorite of the bunch – he doesn’t wear outside of the house. It’s cashmere, soft and warm, and after the second time Stiles accidentally falls asleep while wearing it, he makes it into his permanent pajama top.)

Of course, at some point he stops dwelling on the concrete thought of Derek coming back. The theory of it still lurks in the back of his mind, but it’s not until Derek climbs through his bedroom window to find him curled up in bed with his laptop – wearing the thumb-hole sweater – that it becomes real again.

He flounders for a moment, trying to think of how to explain, while Derek stares at him with wide, surprised eyes.

“I’m back,” Derek finally manages.

“Hi,” is the best – and only – reply Stiles can think of.

“That’s my sweater,” Derek says, voice strangely strangled.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees.

They’re silent for a moment.

“I can – ” Stiles starts.

“Keep it,” Derek interrupts, giving Stiles an intense look he can’t quite interpret.

Then, Derek grabs Stiles’ favorite red hoodie from where it’s been thrown over the back of his desk chair, pulls it on over his shoulders, and jumps back out the window. Stiles figures it’s a fair enough trade.