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Prompt: "Zip me (the dressing each other version), pairing of your choice."

Another apology fic for all the stuff I'm not writing/updating on time lol.

Got another prompt in my askbox, I was super excited--like, jumping for joy gleeeeeee :D (PLEASE COME GIVE ME MORE. I FEEL LOVED)

Pairing of choice--naturally, I chose Sterek.

“Derek.”



“What.”



“Derrrreeeeeekkkk.”



“What?”



“Derek. Derek. DerekDerekDerekDerek. Deeeerrreeekkkiiiaaaa DEREK!”



What, Stiles, WHAT?!” Derek snarled, finally snapping his eyes open to find Stiles still lying by his side on the bed, eyes not even open.



“Derek, dress me.”



“Dress—what?” Derek asked, scrubbing a hand over his face, so much for sleeping in this Sunday. His boyfriend of five years still acted like a child and probably wouldn’t let him go back to bed.



“Dressss me,” Stiles whined, a limp hand raising to flop onto Derek’s chest, shoving half-heartedly at him to get him to move towards the closet.



“Why do I have to dress you?”



“Because I’m sleepy,” Stiles said matter-of-factly.



“So am I,” Derek complained, sitting up anyways as Stiles’ floppy hand continued pushing. He glared at Stiles’ relaxed looking body but his glare softened at the little smile tugging at the corner of Stiles’ mouth.



“Mmf, not as much as meeeee,” Stiles whined, body jerking a little as the hand that was pushing Derek lost purchase on his body when Derek stood up and walked over to the closet. “Yay,” he murmured to himself, smile growing.



Derek smirked at Stiles and crossed back over the room to poke at Stiles. “Hands up,” he tugged Stiles’ arms through the short sleeves and then prodded Stiles into lifting his head and sticking his head through the neck hole. Sliding a hand under Stiles’ back, he propped him up enough to slide the shirt down properly.



“Thank you, Derek,” Stiles crooned happily, eyes still firmly shut in mock sleep. Derek grunted, somehow managing to sound exasperated and fond at the same time.



Pulling back the covers, Derek dragged the jeans up Stiles’ long legs and then jabbed Stiles in the stomach (causing Stiles to giggle a bit at the tickling sensation) to prop his hips up. Finally, he buttoned and zipped the jeans.



“There we go,” Derek said smugly. Stiles’ eyes flew open at the smugness of Derek’s voice—he’d just gotten Derek to dress him, he shouldn’t be sounding smug.



Stiles glanced down at his body and snorted, scowling at Derek.



“You big, possessive sourwolf, god, why do you like putting me in your clothes so much? Ughhh, I’ll have to change—” Stiles was cut off by Derek dropping a kiss to his lips.



“Nope, you don’t.” Derek said contentedly, “Just keep them on. It’s not like we’re going anywhere.” Stiles rolled his eyes and dragged Derek back down for some lazy, Sunday morning loving.

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