The best thing about Stiles finally retiring a few years ago is being able to sleep in and enjoy morning cuddles. Even after more than forty-six years together, Derek still loves holding Stiles tight and nuzzling his neck. They’ve been lying around since waking up over an hour ago, but their eldest daughter is bringing three of the grandchildren over today, so Derek knows they need to get out of bed before Stiles starts dozing. He’s reluctant to leave the warmth of the bed, though, so he hasn’t said anything yet.

“You’re staring,” Stiles murmurs, blinking those pretty brown eyes at him as his lips curve into a slight smile. “Counting the wrinkles?”

“Nah. It’s too early to count that high,” Derek teases, huffing a laugh when Stiles lightly swats at his shoulder. “Hey, no hitting. You know I think your wrinkles are sexy.”

“That’s old age making you crazy.” Stiles brushes his knuckles over Derek’s cheek. “It’s really not fair that you’re older than I am but look handsomely distinguished while I just look old and withered.”

“You don’t look withered.” Derek kisses his nose. “You’re still just as attractive as you were the first time I kissed you. Nah, even more attractive now than back then. You just get better with age.”

Stiles laughs. “Now I know you’re going batty.” He’s still smiling as he brushes his fingers through Derek’s hair. “What time did Claudia say she’s bringing the brats?”

“Around nine.” Derek sighs, rolling over to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Which means we have less than an hour to get up and get the house together.”

“You didn’t leave the chocolate cake out, did you?” Stiles asks, eyes widening. “She’ll lecture us about our sugar intake if she catches sight of that.”

“Yeah, well, at least we can blame it on Laura, since she’s the one who brought it over last night,” Derek points out as he slowly sits up. As he gets closer to eighty, his body is starting to feel it a little more with every passing year. Being a werewolf makes it easier to get old, sure, but it doesn’t make him completely invincible to aging.

“You do realize that you’re suggesting throwing our daughter under the bus?” Stiles takes longer to get out of bed this days, and Derek watches him closely, looking for signs of strain or discomfort that aren’t just part of being seventy and human. Only when he’s sure that Stiles is still as healthy as possible does he start to relax slightly. It’s a fear he’s always had, of course, since Stiles is human, and they spent a lot of those early years dealing with the supernatural.

Now that they’re in their twilight years, so to speak, the fear is back, and Derek is almost hyperaware of every noise or wince Stiles makes because, well, Derek can’t lose him, and the reality that their time together is slowly coming to a natural end scares him to death. Humans are living longer now, though, and John lived to see eighty-six, so Derek’s hopeful that Stiles surpasses that by at least a decade because he hasn’t had any major health issues, and they try to lead healthy lifestyles because neither of them wants to die anytime soon.

A pillow hits his head suddenly, and Derek glares at Stiles, who is laughing at him. “Welcome back, Spaceman.”

“Keep that up, and I’ll tell Jonathan that you’d love to have the boys over for a weekend soon,” Derek says, arching a brow when Stiles makes a face.

“Okay. That’s an effective threat. I mean, I love all of our grandchildren, I really do, but those two terrors make me feel my age,” he admits, wincing as he obviously remembers some mischief or another that the twins caused at some point during their lively twelve years on Earth so far.

“That’s because they take after you,” Derek teases, running a hand through his hair. He needs a haircut soon. Looking at Stiles, he smiles. “Want me to wash your hair for you?”

“That would be great, actually. My shoulder’s still a little sore from stupidly thinking I could play lacrosse again at my age. It’s Scott’s fault, of course, because he assured me we could handle teaching the kids, but he forgets he’s a damn werewolf.” Stiles continues to mutter about Scott as they make their way to the bathroom.

“You’re lucky your shoulder just aches and that you didn’t break a damn hip. You’re not twenty years old anymore, Stiles. You need to be more careful.” Derek starts the shower and undresses as Stiles uses the toilet before taking his pajama bottoms off.

“I might not be young and spry anymore, but I’m not going to just sit around and play checkers like those old men who used to sit down by the courthouse when I was a kid,” Stiles tells him. He looks into Derek’s eyes and smiles wryly. “Being active, even in dumb ways, is keeping me young, Der. It sucks getting old, but I can accept it easier if I’m still able to do most stuff.”

“It’ll suck even worse if you break a bone.” Derek steps closer and buries his face against Stiles’ neck. After breathing in his scent, he sighs. “I don’t care if you’re active. Just be careful, for me. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles whispers, holding him tight and nuzzling his neck before letting go. “Time’s wasting, old man. We’d better get in before the water’s cold.”

“I’m only as old as I feel,” Derek says, rolling his eyes as he steps into the shower after Stiles. They don’t waste much time, lathering up and rinsing off under the water’s spray. When Stiles hands him the shampoo, he squirts some into his palm before working it into Stiles’ hair. Derek’s hair is almost silver, a hint of gray to the white, but Stiles is pure white. It looks good on him, and Derek knows Stiles is mostly relieved he hasn’t lost any hair or started going to bald, so he doesn’t mind the white at all.

“Are you planning to finish before the water gets like ice?” Stiles asks, amusement in his tone. Derek doesn’t even need to look at his face to know he’s smiling.

“We’ve got time. Just hush.” Derek works the shampoo into his hair, rubbing his scalp as he lathers up Stiles’ hair. When he’s done, he rinses his hands before he begins using the shower’s spray to get the shampoo out of Stiles’ hair. He runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair, making sure all of the shampoo is washed out before massaging his scalp the way Stiles always enjoys. When the water does start to cool off, he turns off the faucet before getting a towel.

“Thanks,” Stiles murmurs, turning to smile up at him as Derek begins to dry him off. Stiles steps out when he finishes, handing him a fresh towel to use for himself. After Derek is done, Stiles hangs the towels up to dry before they get put into the hamper, and Derek notices him wince before rubbing his shoulder blade. Derek steps over and puts his hand on the sore spot, absorbing some of the pain until Stiles sighs. “Feels better. Love you, Der.”

Derek tugs him close and hugs him tight. “Love you, too, Stiles,” he whispers, holding him for several quiet moments and just listening to the sound of his heartbeat and his breathing. Finally, he reluctantly lets go and smiles. “We’d better get dressed. Claudia already thinks we’re a couple of horny old men because she keeps catching us naked.”

“Yeah, well, we are a couple of horny old men,” Stiles points out, laughing as he follows Derek into the bedroom. “She’s forty-five. She can handle it.”

They get dressed, and Derek makes the bed as Stiles heads downstairs to hide the cake Laura brought them last night. When he’s finished, Derek goes to find Stiles. The kitchen has no evidence of cake anywhere in sight, and Derek follows his ears until he locates Stiles sitting outside on the porch swing. He smiles as he joins him, sitting on the swing and putting his hand on Stiles’. Derek squeezes Stiles’ hand lightly as they lazily move the swing back and forth while waiting for their eldest daughter and grandchildren to visit.