"Hitting me with pillows isn't allowed. And neither is cracking my forehead on the steering wheel of my Jeep. You already did that," Stiles countered easily. He kept his gaze on the book, eyes soaking in every sentence. Stiles didn't read a lot of poetry. Yeah, he read the stuff for school, but he'd found that teachers were stupid in the regard that what the teacher took away from the poem, wasn't necessarily what the student took away from it. And that led to some tension. But Siken was good. He was great. The writing was raw and honest, and you knew what he was feeling. Because he made you feel it too.
Stiles realized that Derek had heard him when he made that sound and he bit the inside of his cheek, gaze flicking back to his book. Nope. Nope. He was totally reading just now. Yep. He'd insist that until his dying day. Derek spoke and Stiles tore his gaze away from the page he was on, to look over at the former Alpha. He nodded when Derek said he was going to sleep, then made a face when he told him to be quiet. "Dude, I'm not one of those assholes who make a bunch of noise when someone else is sleeping."
He frowned a little, a bit on the concerned side that Derek hadn't been sleeping right. "I'll be nice and quiet and keep reading. And when I finish this book, I'll find another one to read. But I'm waking you up five so we can go back to have dinner and pack up." That was his story and he was sticking to it.