"Done deal."
                          
     Laughing lightly, she took a step back. "You should sleep," Reminding herself that his lights were switched off when she walked into his room. "I mean, Brunski did give you a concussion, so you should rest." Clutching onto the doorknob , she glanced back at him once more. "Goodn–"
                          
     "Actually," Stiles pulled the door back against her pushing, noticing the tension in her posture when she was walking away. "You should stay."
                          
      Baffled, her mouth fell agape. "Stay?" She echoed.
                          
     "Yeah." He nodded sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I mean, what? You're going to go back to your room and stare at the ceiling until sunrise. Your best bet is to sleep on the bed." He gestured to his bed. "Like sleeping on a cloud." 
                          
     "Sleep on..." Juliette reiterated, crossing her arms over her exposed stomach from the cropped tank top. "your bed. You're kidding."
                          
      Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. "Why would I be kidding–?"
                          
      "You never let anyone sleep on your bed. Not even when you were dating Malia," She froze, half expressing contrite over bringing up his ex-girlfriend, the other half of her too exasperated to care. "Okay."
                          
     "Okay?"
                          
     "Okay." Juliette moved to his bed, motioning her arms over the blankets. She peered up at him, arms crossed. "So, where will you sleep?"
                          
     Flushed, he gaped around the room. "That," He pointed at her. "Is a good question–"
                          
     Juliette tugged on his wrists pulling him to the bed. "I was kidding. There's absolutely no way you'd sleep without this pillow, or your covers." She slid her legs underneath the covers, gaping at the expression on his face as he stared at her wordlessly. "What's wrong?" She asked, tone heavy with concern.
                          
      He gulped. "Nothing." He flopped on the bed beside her. "Nothing at all."
                          
      The two laid on the bed, back to back, overwhelmed with the awareness of eachother's presence. Juliette stared blankly at the nightstand, flinching when her back touched his, and instantly scooted further from him– which, since they were sleeping in a rather small bed, couldn't have been much if she was planning not to fall on the floor. 
                          
     Sighing, she turned over to face his back. "This isn't weird, right?"
                          
      The tension left his muscles at the sound of her voice, a sense of relaxation warming his body. He turned to the side, facing her. Both of them with their hands between the pillows and the side of the face, careful not to trail it elsewhere. "Sleeping in the same bed when we're not dating? Not at all." Stiles did a slight combination of an eye roll and a smile. "I mean, we used to do it all the time as kids."
                          
      "That does not count." Juliette chuckled. "I haven't even slept in your bed when we were dating." 
                          
      Stiles narrowed his eyes on her. "I mean, not when we were dating, but there was that time..." He caught the lost look on her face. "You forgot?" 
                          
      Rolling her head over the pillow to face him, she furrowed his eyebrows. "Forgot what?"
                          
     "Well, it was after we broke up." Stiles recalled, moving up to place his elbow on the pillow and resting his head against the palm of his hands, looking down at her as he spoke. "You've only gotten drunk– what? Twice?" He asked for confirmation. "Well the second time, just after your father's funeral, you were pretty... wasted. For starters, you almost kissed Greenberg."