Derek rolled his eyes, turning his head into the motion to look over at Stiles. "I guess you're 'just anyone', then," he answered him, watching him make himself at home on the couch. He didn't find it even remotely surprisingly. He was fine with the fact Stiles was at ease with him. They'd gotten past the at-each-other's-throats thing they'd gone through at first. It was a clash of cultures and personalities, and now they were apparently friends, so there was something to be said for surviving numerous life threatening situations together.
He lifted his gaze from his book as Stiles spoke, raising an eyebrow at the question. The elaboration was necessary, he knew what he meant, but he didn't mind the little bit of clarification. He lowered his eyes back to his book, crossing his leg over his knee, ankle resting on it. "I suppose so. We can pick up our stuff now, if you want. Or wait until later." He closed the book almost all the way, thumb holding it open the last bit, and he looked up at Stiles once he'd spoken.
He hoped the teenager got his meaning and they didn't need to make a big song and dance about it. He still needed to elaborate a little, however. "The couch is comfy, and it makes sense to stick together. Less chance of dying, that way." He shrugged, finally setting the book aside on the table next to him.