Stiles needs a moment. He might need multiple moments to sear this moment into his brain, the way that Derek looks, on his knees, over him, wearing nothing except snug fitting underwear, backlit by the television and the movie that he has absolutely stopped paying attention to.
He feels pale and skinny in comparison, awkward limbs as he shoves his jeans down his legs, his bare toes getting caught in the hem before he frees them. He's red-faced when he's done, and he swallows, tugs his shirt up over his head and manages to hit himself in the face with his glasses.