Stiles huffed. "Well, that's just impolite. I like my nose tongue-free, thank you very much." Stiles glanced out of the corner of his eyes, watching Derek get comfortable for a moment, before he returned his gaze to the book. He rolled his eyes at Derek's warning. "Oh, you mean I can't get really close to your bed and shout... loud random nonsense words to wake you up?" Stiles was, originally, going to say 'fire', but he figured, with Derek, it was for the best that he didn't do that. Fire jokes weren't funny. Not even a little.
Derek settled in and had his back to the couch. Stiles made a face at him, because he could, then returned his focus to the book of poetry on his chest. The book was amazing. It really was. Derek had good taste. Surprisingly enough, considering his taste in women after poor Paige. From what Peter had said of her, she seemed like a sweet girl. He knew that Derek had gotten together with Kate. Deductive reasoning, for the win. But he couldn't understand how it had happened. He couldn't see Derek hitting on an older woman, even jokingly. And, to be honest, he wanted to know, but he wasn't so desperate to know to ask Derek about it.
After about a half hour, Stiles glanced over and Derek was passed the hell out, on his back with his arms over his stomach. Stiles breathed a small snort. Hell, if his arms were higher up on his chest, he'd be sleeping like Dracula. What an ass. In more ways than one, because dang.