Stiles loves Derek the way he is now.
Not so tense. Not so angry. Not so ready to flinch when Stiles brings up a hand to stoke along his stubble cheek.
Really Derek? No demin? No leather?
Stiles laughs at the familiar scowl and brushes off the empty threat of it being much too hot for his jacket.
Stiles knows better though. He understands Derek no longer needs to cling to the past, he is safe without his security blanket, in the home they’ve made for themselves.
There is nothing that makes him happier than seeing Derek relaxed, reclined, warm and safe on the couch, with enough space left for Stiles to curl up beside him.