Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Are you 100% sure I have to do it ?"

"Yes, Stiles." the sheriff sighed for the umpteenth time. "You have to get vaccinated. I have absolutely no doubt about this."

"But-" his kid started.

"Stiles ! Don't make a fuss about this, it'll be fast. You won't even feel it."

John brought his coffee to his lips with a tired exasperation, as the teenager pouted at the other side of the table, stirring uselessly his cereals in his bowl.

"I hate needles..."

"I know, son, I know. But you have to get this vaccine, we've already pushed it away for too long."

Stiles groaned around his spoon. It was true that he should have been immunized against tetanus years ago, but he just hated needles so much. After he had multiple panic attacks as a child, and even ran away once -but only got as far as Scott's house, his dad decided to not pressure him. And these last years were quite busy with another kind of problems, too, so they didn't even think about it. It was a miracle that he hadn't caught the disease yet, really.

"When is it again ?"

"At four thirty."

"I don't want to go alone." The teenager complained.

"Then find someone. I'm sorry son, I should go with you, but I have to..."

"Work." Stiles cut him. "I know. It's okay dad, really. Take care of Beacon Hills !"

And with that he got up, brought his bowl to the kitchen and disappeared upstairs. The sheriff sighed.

❈

"I'm sorry bro." Scott apologized heartfully at school. "But I got a date with Kira this afternoon. I'm really sorry, I would have gone with you if it wasn't today..."

"It's okay dude, I'm just gonna ask Lydia."

❈

But Lydia was busy too, and so was Malia as they were doing something together, and he didn't feel close enough to Liam or Mason to ask any of them to come with him. He even requested for Melissa but she had a shift at that moment.

He felt miserable.

There was only one person left, but he didn't dare ask them.

❈

All day long his anxiety had been growing stronger the closer it got to four thirty. And now he could barely follow what the teacher was saying because he was so nervous.

He didn't want to go.

Please don't make me go.

I don't want it.

I don't want it.

❈

When the end of school came, he felt close to crying. He felt like a child. Over a fucking needle. Come on Stiles. It's just a fucking needle. You've seen worse.

But it was so terrifying.

He couldn't stop thinking about this thin, oh so thin, little metal tube tearing through his skin and going inside him. Spilling medicine inside his blood. Letting holes in his veins.

He wouldn't even feel it. That's what they always said. But he always felt it for days. Just a little spike of pain, a reminder of this microscopic damage that had been done to his skin, where a needle went through.

Just a fucking needle.

❈

"You'll be okay dude ?" Scott asked as they reached the parking. He looked sincerely worried.

"I guess... I don't really have a choice anyway, do I ?" He answered, trying to be more confident. It didn't convince any of them.

After some other sorry, his best friend and his girlfriend left on Scott's bike, leaving Stiles alone.

He walked to his Jeep while taking deep breaths. Relax. You can do this. Be strong.

But as soon as he was seated in front of the steering-wheel, he found himself incapable of starting the car. The little calm he had been able to gain had disappeared in a second and now his hands were shaking against his thighs. He pawed at the wheel but his fingers weren't obeying anymore. Clench. Unclench.

The needle.

A breath got caught in his throat, and he was shaking his head. Go away. I don't want it. His entire body was trembling now. His feet stomping against the floor. His shoulders contracting in painful positions.

Please.

A sob escaped him.

He couldn't do this. He didn't want to go. He didn't- He couldn't.

You have to, he heard his dad remind him.

No. No, please, please.

He inhaled deeply, looking up. He had to.

He wiped uselessly his cheek as he took his phone out of his pocket.

You can do this.

Breathe.

"D- Derek ?" He croaked. "Can I ask you a favor ?"

❈

The werewolf arrived at the school not even ten minutes later, because Stiles didn't feel like he could drive at the moment. He had knocked on the driver's window and the teenager got out to, without a word, get into the Camaro and leave the Jeep on the parking.

It was only after a couple minutes of driving that he finally broke the weirdly comforting silence.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Derek simply answered, and kept on driving.

❈

But once the hospital got into view, Stiles' exhaustion disappeared and a violent spike of panic got the better of him.

The wolf must have heard his heartbeat going faster, and his breath labored, because he was quick to find an empty spot and stop the car.

"Stiles, hey." He tried. A hand on the jaw. "Stiles, it'll be okay. You don't need to worry this much."

"No- No, I don't want to go, Derek, please don't make me go !"

"Hey, hey, breathe, breathe with me, come on." The man urged, turning to face him. Both his hands were cupping his cheeks now, and it helped. Stiles pawed at him before settling for grabbing handfuls of his shirt. The contact grounded him.

"You'll get through this, okay ? I'll be right by your side, I'll take your pain. You'll hold my hand as hard as you want, don't even care about hurting me -if you can. Okay ?"

Stiles nodded between his palms.

"But I can't promise I won't pretend I don't know you if you throw up or pass out though." He finished with a sly smirk.

❈

"Mr Stilinski ? Please follow me." The nurse directed kindly. She shot a curious glance at them when Derek got up along with the teenager and took his hand -only to stop him from biting his nails to the blood.

She led them into a small room in which an uncomfortable looking armchair was standing in the middle. Stiles hesitated before going through the door and reluctantly walked to the seat. He looked at it with big eyes, his fingers twitching anxiously, and turned back to the nurse.

"He can stay, right ?" He asked, unsure, almost afraid of receiving a no. "'Cause I'm not- I don't really like needles."

His expression softened a bit at the woman's nod, and he slowly sat down. She announced that she was going to get Derek a chair and went outside. She was back in a second and the wolf thanked her as he brought his seat closer to Stiles'. The teenager immediately reached for his hand and held onto it nervously.

"It's okay." He reassured him quietly.

Stiles nodded even if it wasn't a question. His hands were trembling in Derek's and he shifted apprehensively his legs against the seat's fabric.

The nurse was preparing the needle in a corner of the room, and soon she turned towards them with a small metallic tray. The teenager felt his breath get caught in his throat again, and he subconsciously tried to make himself smaller. To disappear. Derek's hand closed against his and he put a calming hand on his shoulder, making Stiles turn his head towards him.

"D-D'rek- Please-"

His eyes were blown, pleading, sweat glinting on his forehead, skin pale.

"I'm right there, I'm right there Stiles."

The nurse got closer.

The needle was right there, too.

"No... No- I can't- I can't-"

He curled up closer to the wolf, who brought an arm around his shoulders and held him against his chest.

The woman put her hand on Stiles' arm. It was cold.

"I'll be fast, Stiles. You won't even have the time to blink and it'll be done. Okay ?" She reassured him calmly.

But his eyes were already shut tight.

❈

When he opened them again, it was only because Derek told him to.

"Stiles, it's okay. It's over now."

He uncurled slowly from the werewolf's embrace, feeling dizzy, and looked over his shoulder at the smiling nurse.

"All done yes !" She cheered.

He stared at the Band-Aid on his arm and felt a wave of nausea coming up at the thought of what just happened.

His vision was blurry and his head heavy, burning, but Derek was there to hold him in place as he lost his balance.

"I'm tired." He mumbled as he let his eyes shut again.

"I'm letting you rest for a while, it's normal to feel sleepy after this shot. Then you can go home !"

Stiles didn't catch half of that phrase, but he didn't really care. He just wanted to go to bed.

He didn't really know what happened after, only getting attentive again when he heard Derek say something.

"What ?" He slurred, not even bothering to move his jaw. Too exhausted.

"I asked if you were alright."

What do you think, he thought. But instead just groaned.

Suddenly there was something warm on his forehead and- oh. It felt good. He sighed happily as he leaned further into the fever absorbing warmth.

But soon, too soon, Derek was tugging at his good arm, ordering him to get up because they were leaving. He didn't remember getting outside, but the next moment his head was against cool glass and a motor was purring under him.

He blinked away his blurred vision and looked at the man driving beside him.

"You're with me again ?" He asked, giving him a side glance.

"I guess..." Stiles said. "Did I pass out ?"

"Not quite, but I'm not saying you were conscious either."

"What does that even mean..." He groaned, letting his head fall back against the window.

Derek chuckled lightly, and Stiles didn't even blame the rolls his stomach was doing on his dizziness.

Soon they were parked in the empty driveway in front of the sheriff's house. The teenager got out of the car, only to fall back in his seat when he was swaying dangerously and black dots were filling his vision. He sighed loudly before getting up slower and managed to walk to the door, where Derek quickly joined him and opened it with keys he probably took from him at some point.

He immediately made a beeline for the couch and let himself fall lifelessly on it. He was so tired.

What seemed like a second later, Derek appeared over him with a glass of water and helped him sit up to drink it.

"See, you did it. Did it hurt you ?" The wolf interrogated patiently.

"Ugh... I don't want to talk about it." Stiles complained quietly, still uneasy about the thought that a needle had just pierced his skin.

"Okay."

❈

One hour later, Derek was still by his side. Stiles was feeling another kind of not good. He was still tired as hell, but now he also wanted to cry as he remembered what happened. He felt so ridiculous.

"Thanks." He blurted out. "For, you know, everything. It was very, nice, of you."

Derek's hand was around his again.

"Any time."

"I'm sorry I was so... Clingy. You really weren't obligated to put up with all my shit. I know I overreact at lot."

"It wasn't a problem. It's one of your fears, I can understand."

"Oh... Well then, thanks again."

They stayed silent for a while. Their hands still interlaced.

"If you ever need someone to cling to again, I'll be there." Derek whispered softly, leaning closer.

"Yeah ?"

"Yes." He hummed thoughtfully. "I'll always be there."

"Even if I throw up or if I faint ?"

"Even if you throw up or if you faint."

Stiles smiled.

Chapter Text

There were just some things you didn't understand.

For some people it was math, economics, history or physics.

For other it was how the world functioned. How space could really be infinite. Why people acted like they did.

For Stiles, it was why he had to come with Derek to New York.

The alpha had a meeting there with other pack leaders of the country. Something about a big reunion and decisions to take.
Nothing that involved "bring your human pack mate with you".

And it wasn't that Stiles didn't want to go. He'd love to meet other packs, to get a direct insight into werewolf politics, and to get to travel alone with his partner.

But it was just... New York. A big city, full of people and life, with its parks and squares. With its never ending streets and countless shops. With its animation and its stories. With its famous taxis and its crowded crosswalks.

With its high buildings, and with the flight that'd bring them there.

That's what kept him from wanting to go.

He tried to argue with Derek, advancing that taking one of his betas with him would be better, but the werewolf kept insisting that he wanted Stiles to come.

He didn't ask why the human was so reluctant, and the younger man didn't explain it either.

He wasn't about to tell his boyfriend that he was afraid of height and high buildings. How stupid could that be. A building. It wasn't dangerous. It didn't even move.

He fought werewolves and kanimas, a Nogitsune and beserkers. And this was his phobia.

Height and buildings.

Seriously Stiles ?

❈

"You okay ?" Derek whispered in his ear as he leaned to kiss his head. "You seem nervous."

They were in the airport, standing in the line as they waited to get into the plane. Stiles clutched his boarding pass in a hand, the straps of his duffel bag in the other, his foot taping an uneven beat on the floor. He snapped his neck to stare at the werewolf standing by his side, an arm looped around the younger man's waist.

"I'm fine." He replied stiffly. "Just not very fond of planes."

Derek hummed in understanding, bringing him closer and tucking him under his arm.

The line was getting shorter way to fast for Stiles' liking, and soon he found himself handing his ticket to the steward and led through the footbridge with the comforting presence of Derek's hand in his.

Once they reached their seats, the wolf took both of their bags and put them in the overhead bin -because of course he was a strong galant boyfriend.

"You can take the window, I'll probably sleep the entire flight anyway." The human assured him as he wavered by the row.

They sat down, Derek brought their joined hands in his lap and let Stiles rest his head on his shoulder, his free arm around the younger man's back. He nudged him gently when he took a sharp breath and reassured him quietly that it'd be okay.

Stiles knew it would be okay. That was the thing. But it didn't keep him from getting anxious at the idea that they'd be thousands and thousands feet above the ground.

Plane were the safest transport.

It still didn't make it sound very safe.

❈

When the plane took off, Stiles was hiding in Derek's arms, who just kept on rubbing his back and murmuring in his ear. As long as he didn't look outside, he'll be okay, he thought. In the warm familiarity of his partner's embrace, he could almost forget where he was and pretend they were in another place, preferably closer to the ground and without the risk of suddenly falling.

❈

He was so good at pretending that he indeed ended up falling asleep for most of the flight. Derek had started reading a book over his head, where it was resting on the man's lap, and absently ran his fingers in Stiles' hair. The slight massage was enough to keep him from getting his entire consciousness back and he was grateful for it. His eyes were shut, mouth hanging open, his arms limp.

When they finally reached the ground again, he couldn't remember anything, really. He didn't know if the vague moments he had been awake were real or not, but he found out he didn't care. He was just glad they landed.

They took some time at the airport to eat something and go to the bathroom. Stiles seemed to have gained some energy back by the time they called a cab to bring them to their hotel.

He stayed pressed against Derek in the backseat, grateful for the roof of the car that kept him from seeing the buildings he guessed were standing above him.

If the werewolf noticed his heartbeat getting faster, he didn't mention it.

Soon the cab stopped in front of an affordable looking hotel's facade. Stiles took care of not looking up and kept his eyes on his shoes while he waited for Derek to pay the driver. He could feel the weight of the towers around him, pressing closer, menacing to suffocate him. He took his boyfriend's hand a tat too sharply and urged him inside, where he could finally breathe a little bit better.

But he was still too aware of the hundreds of layers over his head and looked anxiously at the walls that surrounded the reception. How could they hold all this weight any longer ?

Derek was looking at him curiously, and just held his hand a little bit tighter.

A few minutes later, they were in the elevator. Racing upwards. He stared at the numbers getting bigger and bigger. Higher and higher.

The werewolf cupped his cheek and kissed him delicately, bringing him back to the present moment. He watched him with a soft but worried glaze in his eyes, and pressed his lips against the human's again.

"What's wrong ?" He murmured.

Stiles shrugged.

"Cities make me anxious."

It wasn't a lie, but Derek still didn't look convinced.

❈

Their room was a modest size, with a large bed in the middle and a wall made of glass.

Stiles threw himself against the heavenly-comfortable looking pillows, making the other man huff in amusement, but mainly so he had a pretext not to look out the window.

After a few minutes, he felt the mattress dip beside him and strong arms were wrapped around his frame. He turned around and faced his partner, smiling lightly as he shuffled closer to him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How're you doing ?"

"I'm good." Derek replied, his lips brushing against Stiles'. "The meeting's only tomorrow. What do you want to do until then ?"

"Hmm... Stay here, and cuddle..." The younger man mumbled as he nuzzled his neck and settled against his chest.

"You've already done that all day long." The wolf reminded him with a tint of laughter in his voice. "Don't you want to go outside, enjoy the city ?"

Stiles didn't reply. He sounded almost disappointed. The human guessed he really wanted to rediscover the place he'd lived in with his sister a few years ago. He didn't want to keep him from it. He wasn't this selfish.

"Okay." He agreed then. "But first we cuddle."

With an amused sigh, Derek closed his eyes, holding the other man safely against him.

❈

As much as the elevator got down, his anxiety was going up.

Irrational fear.

He fiddled with the hem of his jacket.

They walked through the door.

Outside.

Stiles waited for it. The sudden panic spike. But it was far worse.

He could feel it gnawing at his skin, menacing to blow up at any moment. But no, it waited. It waited to grow, to become stronger, so it could make more damage.

He felt enclosed.

He knew it was only the perspective, but if he looked up, the buildings were dangerously dipping towards him, and if he looked straight ahead the street was becoming narrower and narrower.

Trapped.

The walls were far too high.

The towers too thin.

The wind too strong.

Stiles felt this beast grow inside of him. It was growling. It was clawing at his neck.

Derek's arm was heavy on his shoulders.

He knew his boyfriend was talking to him, telling him stories about his time living here.

His eyes were glinting with something Stiles had only rarely seen in him.

He dared looking up to a building the werewolf was pointing at. It was swaying. It was moving.

Was it really this inclined ?

So high, so high...

A car raced next to them, and Stiles swore he saw the monument dip further down.

He couldn't take his eyes off it.

The walls behind him felt too heavy.

The beast had ripped his lungs off.

Something dark pushed at the corner of his vision.

It was closing.

Narrower.

They were falling.

The walls were falling.

He felt hands grab him by the shoulders.

Duck, duck, or you'll be under it.

"-tiles !" Someone was yelling.

Now was a good time to yell. The beast was making to much noise, he couldn't hear anything else but the ringing in his ears. It was so clouded.

"Stiles !" Derek, he recognized him this time.

He was led somewhere.

Where ?

It had closed.

There was nowhere to go.

"Stiles, breathe for fuck's sake ! Breathe !"

He couldn't see. Only shadows, only black dark shadows.

But he couldn't breathe. Not enough space.

Derek, I'm sorry.

I can't breathe.

Duck, duck, or you'll be under it.

He was pushed to the side.

There was something above him.

He was under.

"Okay, okay, Stiles, listen to me." Derek. He was there with him. No, no, he shouldn't be.

"You have to breathe, okay ? You have to breathe."

His hand was pressed against something. A beat.

"Breathe with me, Stiles, follow me."

But he couldn't.

"You are safe, there's nothing to harm you here."

But the buildings-

The walls-

One, two, three, four.

Breathe.

One, two, three, four.

Breathe.

The beast had reached the outside.

His throat was free.

"Good, you're doing so good. Keep going, please just keep going."

❈

"You scared me so much." Derek whispered after several minutes. His arms shielding him of the world's view, his chin propped on his head.

"I'm sorry..." He murmured.

"Don't. Don't be." The werewolf pleaded. "This was not your fault, okay ?"

He had managed to get Stiles into a small empty street and made him sit on the porch of some house, where they huddled together until he was calm enough again.

"I should have told you..."

"Told me what ?"

"That I'm afraid of high things... Buildings, towers... I should have told you."

Derek hushed him with a kiss on the head, and just kept on holding him tighter.

"That's why you didn't want to come." He realized quietly.

Stiles didn't bother giving an answer, but instead looked up to meet his boyfriend's eyes.

"I want to go back to the hotel." He mumbled, and the wolf just said okay, and helped him get up.

❈

The walk back was event-less. Stiles was drained. He didn't even have enough energy to think and just let Derek lead him trough the city in an unaware trust.
Once they were back in the room, he let himself fall on the bed again, facing up this time, as the werewolf went to close the curtains of the window. He then took off Stiles' shoes and his own and joined him on the mattress.
He quietly undressed them both until they were only in their underwear -and t-shirt for Stiles- before leaning over the younger man and kissing him delicately, his eyes searching through his.

"You okay ?" He inquired softly.

Stiles only nodded and brought his hands up to run his fingers through Derek's short hair.

"Sorry for ruining the trip." He murmured, his gaze fixated on the older man's lips.

The wolf shut him up with another kiss, before shifting his position so he could cradle his face between his palms.

"You are not ruining anything Stiles. I'm just so glad to get to have you with me, to spend some time together, just us. That's the only thing I want."

The human smiled softly at his words and ran his hands down Derek's neck to bring them around his back. The other man smiled back and followed the movement by letting himself fall back against the mattress by his side, bringing the Stilinski closer to him.

"I'm glad I'm with you too." Stiles whispered before closing his eyes.

❈

The next day was the meeting's day. They stayed in bed until noon before showering and getting ready.

Stiles anxiety hadn't risen as much as the previous day, but he still wasn't feeling safe as he walked between these menacing walls. At least now that Derek was aware, he was actually really helpful.

He always made his human walk the furthest from buildings, avoided narrow streets and kept his arm around his waist instead of his shoulders. Helped him stay balanced and feel protected instead of adding to the sensation of too much weight, oppressing him.

The reunion was taking place in an abandoned looking warehouse that reminded Stiles of his alpha's own loft. He didn't miss mentioning it to him and received an affective flick behind the head.

The meeting went well, and the human finally understood why it was important that he came with, and not any beta. To show that a pack wasn't only made of werewolves. To prove that they were equals.

Except for a few traditionals, the rest of the guests seemed curious about it and Stiles got a little more attention that what he was comfortable with, but Derek was quick to notice it and to start talking again, keeping the other weres from asking his partner more questions.

When the evening arrived, they politely declined the offer to stay and get drinks -despite the supernatural's immunity to alcohol- and left the warehouse, pressed close together.

"That wasn't so bad." Derek admitted as they walked along the empty streets.

"Did you expect it to be ?"

"Sort of. My mother always told us about fights between rival packs happening during those meetings, seems like things have changed."

"That's good." Stiles approved with a fond smile on his lips.

As they walked in silence, he could feel the anxiety rising in his throat again, the fear now increased by his incapability to see the danger above him in the night, as dark as New York could be. He only distinguished the buildings he knew were around him by the lit windows lined up on the walls.

"Hey." Derek brought back his attention to him. "You're okay Stiles, we're safe." He reminded him gently, rubbing his hand against the human's hipbone.

He only nodded back to him, knowing he could believe him but he also felt the space around him closing.

The yellowed squares above him didn't look attached to anything. Just floating in the sky. No strings kept them secure.

They could fall at any moment.

Stiles' breath caught.

Derek made him stop and turned him around so they faced each other. He took both of the younger man's hands in his, loosening his clenched fingers and rubbing his knuckles.

"You are safe Stiles." He repeated confidently, and Stiles wanted to be convinced. "Nothing is gonna happen to any of us. The buildings won't move. They won't fall."

Staring into the werewolf's eyes, Stiles shook reluctantly his head, his legs twitching nervously under him.

"Yes, yes, they won't fall." Derek assured him. "I can promise you. They. Won't. Move."

The human wanted to yell at him, to run and get out of there as soon as possible, to scream that he didn't understand, that he knew his fear was irrational and childish, but he could only whimper, tug on Derek's hands, urging him to keep walking.

His boyfriend shushed him, pressing their bodies closer and let go of his hands, instead laying his palms against the back of Stiles' head, forcing him to stay immobile.

"Do you trust me ?" He whispered. The Stilinski nodded with a chocked whine. "Then trust me when I say you have nothing to be afraid of."

Unconsciously, the younger man took a step towards him, clutching the wolf's shirt, pulling on it.

"Please, please Derek." He stressed. "Let's just go. Please." His last word came our more as a cry than anything else, but his pulse was quickening and his whole body shaking.

"You need to breathe, love, then we can go."

Not understanding why Derek acted like he did, Stiles was almost bouncing on his feet, pleading him hysterically to just leave.

"Breathe."

He was shaking his head no, tears flowing on his cheeks as he whined, urging the wolf with his eyes.

They had to go.

They had to go.

Derek moved one of his hands down Stiles' neck and applied a light pressure there. He searched the human's terrified look with his calm, green gaze. "Stiles, I'm right here. I'm not letting anything happen to you okay ? I just need you to take a deep breath." He guided him reassuringly.

Not having another choice, the younger man choked as he tried to calm down, steadying his heartbeat under the werewolf's praises and encouragements.

"Good, you're doing so good. My beautiful, brave boy." He whispered as he brought the crying human against his chest, securing him in a warm hug.

"See ? You did it, nothing's happened. You are safe, you are completely safe."

Stiles didn't bother answering, just pressed himself closer.

"Can we go now ?" He murmured after a moment, so quietly that if Derek wasn't a werewolf he wouldn't have heard it.

❈

The walk back to the hotel went the same way as the previous night. Only, Stiles felt as if a weight had been taken off his chest. Maybe Derek's little exercise had been helpful. He felt a bit easier than before.

They went to bed unceremoniously, both drained by the day and the human's panic.

Stiles slept deeper than the other night for sure.

❈

"And now we're already going home." Stiles thought out loud the next morning as they were having breakfast in their hotel's restaurant.

Derek hummed around his toast.

Once they got back to their room and had a few hours in front of them before they had to leave the hotel, the werewolf crowded Stiles against a wall to kiss him heatedly.

With his hands in his black hair and a thigh between his own, he moaned and kept deepening the kiss until they had to break apart to get air. Derek continued mouthing at his jaw and hooked Stiles' legs around his hips, carrying him away from the wall. Stiles was too blissed out to realize where he was taken until his back was pressed against something hard and cold. A quick glance behind him filled him with dread : it was the window, with hundreds of feet of height displayed in front of his eyes.

He turned back to his boyfriend, tightening his grip on him, panic on his face.

"D- Derek- Can we-" But he was cut off as the wolf started pressing his lips against his again.

"Concentrate on me Stiles, I got you." He ordered calmly between kisses. "Remember yesterday, you can do this."

It took several minutes for the human to relax completely, losing himself in the absolute trust he had in Derek, and loosening his arms from around the werewolf shoulder's to let his back lean against the glass. The adrenaline rushing through his veins only made their make-out session more intense.

"I'm so proud of you." Derek praised, his voice gruff, as he attacked Stiles' neck.

❈

He was also very proud of himself, he thought later that day, when they were back in Beacon Hills, resting in Derek's loft.

The flight back went the same way as the first, Stiles having accomplished enough already to try to overcome his fear one more time by looking through the airplane's window. Still, his boyfriend made sure to show him how proud he was by whispering praises in his ear as much as possible, and it filled his heart with contentment.

Once they reached the town, they went to greet the Sheriff and meet up with the rest of the pack, only to tell them that everything went well and that they were tired and needed to rest, alone.

Cuddled in the dark sheets of Derek's bed, who was already asleep with an arm thrown over Stiles, the young man smiled at himself, feeling more confident than he had in a long time.

The view from that hotel window was beautiful.

Chapter Text

The pack was fighting.

Trapped in the school, everyone had run off their way, trying to crowd one of the alphas in a corner and therefore gain the upper hand in order to defeat them.

Derek and Isaac were in the library, playing a twisted version of hide and seek between the bookshelves, blood coated around the already healing wounds on their bodies, Ennis and Kali somewhere behind them.
Lydia and Allison, safe in an empty classroom as they tried to come up with a plan.

Scott and Stiles were running through the hallway, the latter one second away from his legs giving out under him and his lungs tearing open as he struggled to gasp for air in his mad rush, the Alpha Twins right behind them.

Scott made a sharp turn to get inside the locker room, waiting for his best friend to reach him and slamming the door closed before the enemies could get to them. He then pressed his back against it as they pounded and growled at it, Stiles slumped in front of him with his hands on his knees, his baseball bat falling on the ground, panting violently.

"Stiles." The werewolf hissed under the blows. "Get out by the field, I'll hold them back."

Before he even could consider this idea, the door exploded behind Scott and sent him flying forward, letting the combined twins inside the room, growling menacingly at the two other teenagers. They went for the wolf first, but his enhanced reflexes allowed him to jump out of their claws' trajectory. Then, Stiles attacked : leaping at them, crashing the bat on their ugly, deformed head, not causing any damage but giving Scott two more seconds to get himself in a more favorable position.

They turned to face the human, growling between their sharp fangs, and grabbed him by his shirt before he could react, letting his weapon slip off his hand, then sending him on the floor, where he slid pathetically until his back hit a row of lockers, knocking the air out of him one more time.

Scott was on them again, ripping their chest open, but they were stronger than the beta and threw him against the wall with more force than they had with Stiles, before charging at the human who just got up again, only to get raised off the ground and slammed against the lockers, making him hit his head painfully on them.

He knew they wouldn't hurt him seriously, their plan wasn't to injure or kill any of them, especially not the one who couldn't heal by himself, but just to scare them.

"Come on, guys." He groaned, eyes closed, as he was held in the air, feeling dizzy. "Can't you ju-"

But he couldn't finish his sentence as he was again slammed against something, which wasn't the row, but the inside wall of an empty locker itself. The back of his head was radiating with pain at this point, and his vision was so blurry that he didn't immediately realize that he had been sent inside a locker and that the door had been slammed closed in his face. Slumped in the corner, it took him seconds to regain his breath and sight back, but when he understood what was happening he lost his air immediately again.

"Wha- Scott !" He screamed as he punched the door, only for the lock to bounce against the outside wall, which the twins apparently took the time to shut. "Scott !"

But his best friend didn't seem to be in a good position to help him, now that the annoying human was out of the way, as the Alphas roared and charged at him.

He heard the growls and groans, the shuffling of their bloodied clothes and the creaking metal walls as they fought against them, but everything was muffled by the cage he was trapped in.

"Okay, stay calm, stay calm..." He muttered at himself, his hands against the door, but they were already trembling and his heart accelerating.

He took a shaky breath as he evaluated the situation. He was too tall to stand straight in the confined inside of the locker, the four surfaces around him too close to allow him any wide movement, the door locked, too solid for him to break it. He had lost his phone earlier as he was running. Everyone else was fighting for their life and probably unaware of his situation, except Scott who, by what he could hear, wasn't about to get rid of the twins anytime soon.

In other words, he was fucked.

When this conclusion hit him, he punched the door violently and let his back fall against the wall behind him.

"Okay, you can do this." He tried to reassure himself, his eyes closed, to keep his cool. "You just have to wait for someone to let you out."

But outside, the room's door banged shut in a cacophony of scrambling feet.

And the silence replaced them.

He was alone.

He whimpered, his face contorted in a hurt and scared grimace.

He tried to keep his breathing under control, but with every passing second it became harder and harder, until he was racked with sobs. There wasn't enough air in there, even with the aeration slits letting lines of light define his face in the otherwise darkness.

There wasn't enough air, and with the panic that he knew would overcome him in a few, he wouldn't even be able to breathe.

He had to get out.

So he was hammering on the door with closed fists, screaming at the top of his lungs for someone to hear him.

He didn't know where the rest of his pack could be, so he just kept on hitting the surface until his clenched fingers were bleeding as they dented the metal. But even then he didn't stop and in his blind panic, his entire body was unleashed, shaking and convulsing. Red was trickling from the top of his head where he was continuously banging it against the roof of the locker.

He couldn't hear his own hysteric, breathless, shouts over the blood rushing in his ears and the erratic pounding of his heart. Couldn't hear his limbs slam on every available surface, the crack of the metal resonating madly inside the confined space, which seemed to get even narrower and narrower as his shoulders no longer fit between the walls.

He only stopped hitting when there wasn't enough air in his limbs to keep him upright anymore, and he crumbled, his knees knocking his chin as he fell on the floor. The walls were pressing on his folded frame from every side, and he cried the last tears he had, sobbing too much to even gulp the thin reminder of oxygen. He felt a wave of nausea menacing.

He was stuck. He was stuck and nobody was coming to help him out.

He couldn't even breathe, there wasn't enough space.

He let his pounding head fall between his knees and hugged himself between his exhausted arms, creating a barrier between himself and the walls, as if it could make him forget they were actually the thing keeping him curled on himself, and not his own limbs, by his free will.

There wasn't anything free here.

He was locked up.

It was in this illusion, which hardly even functioned, that he inhaled the insufficient oxygen in shaky breaths, his nose dripping with snot, his face covered in blood and salty water -sweat and tears, probably even drool, but he couldn't fill his lungs.

He was swaying, falling further on the surface at his side, his mind going fuzzy as he tried to hold on his consciousness. He probably managed to get himself a concussion, which wouldn't matter anyway if he stayed in here any longer.

He wasn't sure anymore if he couldn't see because there wasn't enough light, but he couldn't even keep that thought in mind. He was falling, but there wasn't anywhere to go.

There fucking wasn't anywhere to go.

His head was spinning, a distant ringing painfully loud in his ears. He felt as his crane was tightening on itself, and it sent him in a last wave of panic, gulping one more time the air that wasn't there and smashing his elbows madly against the walls. His back arching violently. Spasming. Screaming. Shouting to let him out.

But suddenly there was his name yelled somewhere outside, but he couldn't hear it over his own hysteria, and suddenly there was a loud noise and so much light and air.
And air.

He let his limbs unfold under him as he scrambled outside, outside of the locker. Free. Released. He fell on his knees and hands and opened his mouth to breath, but could only inhale half a breath before he was choking and throwing up all over the floor, and there wasn't air anymore.

Just before his limbs gave out under him, arms caught him and he collapsed against whoever saved him, battling against himself to give his lungs something to make him survive.

The person holding him was talking, but the ringing in his ears hadn't stopped and everything was so cloudy. He didn't care.

When he was finally able to breathe, he slumped further down against the body with relief, his eyes still closed, mouth hanging open.

He was outside.

His chest heaving, he eventually took the time to open his heavy eyelids and glanced over to see his best friend's face, scared and unbelieving. His lips were moving, and with a little concentration that drained Stiles from his last energy, he could hear the breathless "oh my god, oh my god..." the werewolf was repeating.

He closed his eyes again, let his head fall back against Scott's ribs.

His body was hurting from everywhere, his hands shaking violently, bloody and cut open, his arms bruised and heavy, legs unresponding from where they were folded under him, he couldn't even feel them. His head was the worst though, even if he wasn't aware of the wound at its back, still bleeding and painting his hair and both of the teenagers' shirts in dark red. Pain was radiating from it, and the lack of oxygen it had suffered still made it cloudy and dull. It was still ringing.

But he was out.

He was outside.

Chapter Text

It started with his mother.

He knew she was sick, he understood that she didn't mean what she was saying, but a nine year old little boy still could get hurt.

"You're not my son." She would hiss at his terrified face, his eyes big as he held himself by her hospital bed, hands clutching the drapes tightly in his tiny fists. "I don't have a kid this awful, this ugly !"

He would hold back his tears, mouth tight, cheeks red as he watched his mom waste away in a too white room, until his father came to pick him up, and then, only then, held safely in his dad's arms, he'd let go, wetting his uniform with salty water. The sheriff would rub his back, whispering in his ears that it was only the dementia making her say that, that it was wrong, he was beautiful, he was his son, his perfect little boy.

Even if Stiles believed him, the insults were already etched in his mind.

It continued with his body's reluctance to change like the other boy's.

When Scott started developing muscles and growing his first body hair, he only got taller, lankier, skinnier.

His pale, scrawny self couldn't compare to his classmates, some of which seemed to take great delight by taunting him about it when they were changing before PE.

One day, he just stopped going in the locker room.

Instead, he hurried in the school's bathroom, changing clothes hidden in a toilet stall before catching up the rest of his class on the field.
Scott didn't have to ask, because he saw more than once Jackson and his so-called friends mocking Stiles, and even if he defended his best friend with all of his heart at every insult, the thin boy was only getting more and more insecure, so he let him hide without a word.

Then Stiles stopped tagging along in their trips to the beach or the swimming pool.
He used silly kid excuses at first, like he found swimming stupid because they weren't fish and didn't have to swim. Fish never came on land, so humans didn't need to invade sea and lakes either. Melissa and the sheriff rolled their eyes playfully, amused at the child's antic, thinking he'd grow out of that phase.

Except he never did, and it had been years now since he last went into water with his best friend.

Now he was sixteen, and still the same skinny guy with a growing buzz cut that nobody paid attention too.

He hid his body under too many layers and baggy hoodies, pretending he was cold and that they were confortable, which wasn't false, but it wasn't the main reason.

He still wasn't using the locker room, preferring to shower at home, and everyone was so used to it that they didn't notice it anymore. Even coach knew he would never find the teenager changing with the others.

It wasn't simple body insecurity at this point.

Scott getting bit turned his whole life upside down.
Now his days were spent with muscled, handsome werewolves at his side, and his clothes weren't only hiding his lack of definition anymore, but also bruises and scars that his dad couldn't know about.

❈

After a particularly violent fight against the Alpha Pack, in which luckily nobody got killed but there were quite some serious injuries, Stiles offered to drive a mostly unconscious Derek back to his loft.

The wolf had his chest torn open, ugly claws marks running down his neck, curled around his shoulder, and an uncountable amount of broken bones. His head was resting against the window of the Jeep, lolling along the road's bends, arms hanging lifelessly at his sides, wheezing, bleeding.

Despite knowing he'd be okay, Stiles couldn't keep himself from glancing anxiously at his broken form, drumming his bruised fingers on the steering wheel until he parked in front of the apartment.
Derek had regained some consciousness back during the drive, and it only took a little help from the human to drag him inside the loft, where Stiles let him drop on the couch before he went to retrieve a glass of water and the first-aid kit the werewolf kept in the bathroom.

He crouched in front of him and hovered above the torn flesh that covered Derek's thoracic cage. The bloody mess under his eyes made him feel a bit nauseous, but he made a great effort to stay as calm as he could while he observed the multiple injuries that covered the Alpha's body.

"Derek ?" He asked, unsure if the wolf was still with him. "What do you need me to do ?"

The werewolf groaned, and it made Stiles ache just by hearing his broken, pained voice, before trying to sit up, the human hurrying to help him. He then tore the rest of his shirt off his skin with a wince, letting it fall beside him. He took a pause, just to regain his breath, and proceeded to look down at his chest and over his shoulder, where blood was still coating his skin.

"I'm gonna fetch a wash cloth, okay ? I'll be right back." Stiles announced softly, before hurrying to the bathroom to come back with several towels and a bowl of lukewarm water.

Derek was still hunched on the sofa, running his trembling fingers over his broken skin.

"I'm gon- I'm gonna trigger the healing process." He rasped and it was the only warning he gave Stiles before he dug his claws in his thigh with a choked groan. The teenager shut his eyes immediately, having flashbacks from the time they were paralyzed in the police station.

He dared to look again when he heard Derek sigh and fall against the back of the couch, put the water on the floor next to him, dipped a cloth in it and just asked his permission with an eye glance before he was cleaning carefully the werewolf's shoulders and neck, washing the blood away from his gashes.

It was an intimate action, but not the first time they shared it. As they were looking for Boyd and Erica during summer, Derek often came back to the Hale house cut open and bruised, exhausted, and Stiles was the only one there to take care of his injuries. Even if he could heal by himself, he didn't like the thought of leaving the werewolf to deal with it by himself, so he stayed, and provided all the support he could by cleaning his wounds before they got infected and washing the blood out of their clothes.

He still hated the sight of damaged skin and dark red goo, but he was getting better at handling it, no longer fainting and throwing up. Better to get used to it sooner than later.
But this time was probably the worst state he'd seen Derek in. The werewolf couldn't even keep his eyes open and struggled to stay upright as Stiles slid the towel over his abs.

At first he had been uncomfortable with being this close to the wolf's body. He felt like he wasn't allowed to touch his stomach, which should be one of the most vulnerable part of his anatomy, but Derek didn't seem to mind. Boundaries in a wolf pack weren't the same as in the human society, he discovered. Physical contact turned out to be something that really comforted and reassured the Alpha, despite his difficulties with social interactions. Often after a difficult day when he craved his missing pack's presence, he had turned to Stiles, seeking touch and affection in the human's embrace.

Hugging Derek Hale wasn't something he ever thought could become a normal thing.

Also, he had become accustomed to the fact that his werewolfy friend -because that's what they were now, wasn't it ?- was seriously hot. Touching his muscled biceps and defined abs wasn't as exciting as it sounded when they were covered in blood and what other nasty substances. He had swallowed down his desires as soon as their routine had started, disgusted at the idea of sexualizing and taking advantage of the werewolf when he was hurt and trusting him with this. It wasn't nothing.

Seeing that Derek couldn't hold himself upright for much longer, he gently pushed his healing shoulder down, encouraging him to lie on the couch so he could wash his back, which the wolf obliged with another groan.

"You're hurt." He suddenly heard a muffled voice tell him.

"What ?"

"You're hurt." Derek repeated. "I just saw you wince when you moved your arm and-" He reached out to put his hand on Stiles' back, which caused him to flinch as it brushed against a painful area.

"See !" The wolf emphasized, veins turning black as he sucked out the pain.

Despite himself, Stiles sighed as the soreness he hadn't even realized was there disappeared off his shoulder.

"How did you get that ?" The older man questioned, sitting up, any trace of being previously injured gone.

"I don't even know, but I'm fine, it's probably nothing." He brushed it off with a shrug, but even that sent another wave of pain down his spine.

"Stiles. How did you get that ?"

"I don't know !" He answered again, a little too defensively. "I really don't know, Derek, didn't even realize it hurt until now."

Hearing he wasn't lying, Derek leaned a bit closer to the teen, still on his knees in front of him, a towel in hand.

"Take off your shirt."

"What ?" He yelped as he got up in a jump, getting further.

"I want to see your injury, and your shirt's in the way." The werewolf said with a hint of annoyed sarcasm in his voice.

"I said I was fine !"

"Stiles, let me see it." He ordered, tone softer and got up too, body creaking under him as his bones found their place.

"No."

He tightened his arms around himself as he watched Derek getting closer, as if protecting himself. He knew the wolf could hear his heartbeat accelerating, and he hoped it'll be enough to convince him to back down.

It was, apparently, because he stopped walking and held his hands up in an innocent demonstration. He looked rather shocked, maybe not expecting Stiles to react this way.

"Stiles, I won't do anything to you, you know that right ? I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm okay." He snapped, breath getting louder.

"Stiles."

"I'll look at it myself later, is that okay with you ?"

His voice cracked, betraying the fear he was hiding under his aggressive tone and he curled tighter on himself, retreating even more.

"If you're able to look at your back, yes." Derek replied, worry mixed in the tease.

"You have no idea how flexible I can be."

"I'll keep that in mind."

That was enough to get a surprised laugh out of the teenager, and he huffed, incredulous, at the smirking werewolf, who hadn't moved a single inch, not taking advantage of the distraction.

It was like a dance, he thought.

You take a step closer, I take a step back.

You hear me panic, you back down.

You make me smile, you earn my trust.

But oh, will you keep it ?

I'm waiting for you. Take a step closer.

Make me lose control.

"How are your injuries ?"

"Healing." Derek answered. "How's yours ?"

Stiles didn't answer, instead letting his hands grab handfuls of his t-shirt, keeping it close, down. He didn't like where this was going.

"Why do you have to hide it Stiles ? Let me just take care of you."

"I can take care of myself." He retorted harshly, too lost in his own emotions to catch the shadow of hurt swiping over the werewolf's features.

It took him a few seconds to come up with a new approach, before he took a tentative step closer, the human shifting nervously, his heartbeat going wild. "What are you afraid of ?" The wolf whispered softly.

"I'm not afraid." But even himself knew it was a lie.

"I won't hurt you, I won't even touch you for that matter, just let me see your back." Derek reassured him, but the teenager was only getting more scared. "Stiles, why are you afraid ?"

Fidgeting with the fabric between his fingers, he shook vigorously his head, shutting his eyes closed, but he didn't give any sort of answer.

"Is showing me your back the issue ?"

At the reaction it got from the kid, Derek guessed it was. His pulse had spiked considerably, and all his muscles seemed to have clenched at the same time.

The older man got closer, slowly.

"Stiles, you can trust me." He said quietly, as he was now standing right in front of him. "I won't hurt you, I won't say anything, I won't touch you without your permission, okay ? Do you believe me ?"

Looking up at him with wide eyes, mouth tightly shut, the sheriff's kid nodded, his arms still around himself.

"Good." Derek praised. "You don't have to take your shirt off, I'll just raise the back, is that okay ?"

After another nod, he went behind the boy, asking him kindly to unfold his arms, which earned him a second encouraging good, and the werewolf took the bottom of his dirty shirt between his fingers, gently bringing it at the base of his neck, revealing naked, mole-dotted, pale skin with goosebumps raised on it.

And also a huge purple bruise covering half of his back.

Derek had never seen a mark this horrifying. It went from the middle of his spine to his left shoulder, hidden by the shirt he was still holding, red and blue, dark and contrasted, like paint stains on porcelaine. Near the top of his back, it looked like some parts had even been scratched, like when a human would fall on concrete, but it wasn't bleeding.

He wanted nothing more than to brush his fingers over it and absorb all the pain from Stiles's trembling body, but he knew he wasn't allowed to touch him.

"How is it ?" The kid asked faintly when Derek still hadn't said anything. His nervousness was augmenting again, the wolf noticed. Sounded close to crying.

So he put the shirt back in place and gave him a quick description of the state of his back. The teenager visibly relaxed as he wasn't exposed anymore.

"Did you fall against something during the fight ?" He inquired then, facing him again, at which Stiles took a minute to think.

"Yes." He admitted, seeming surprised at himself. "I remember now. I was slammed against a three, must have hit my head, that's why I don't remember it distinctly, and then I think I was thrown on the ground. At least I know I was on the ground at some point. For sure."

Derek immediately reached to examine Stiles head, but didn't find any trace of an injury there, and the teenager glared at him when he was in front of him again.

"I need to see your shoulder." He blurted out suddenly, remembering the damaged skin he only got a glimpse of.

"No." Stiles immediately refused, getting defensive again. Because he knew there was no way to uncover it without removing entirely his shirt. "My shoulder I can take care of by myself."

He pushed past the werewolf before he could argue, leaving a trail of mixed scents behind him -anger, anxiety as always, fear, and... Humiliation ?

❈

The next time Derek saw Stiles was during a pack meeting at Scott's house.

Not only didn't the teenager say a single word to him, he also looked rather ashamed and nervous. He kept glancing discreetly at the Alpha and didn't pay any attention to what they were talking about.

Which was quite concerning.

After the pack had come up with a plan to catch the Alphas and everyone was parting to either chat in a corner or sit in front of the TV, Derek approached the teen, who was lingering by the kitchen, still not saying anything.

"Are you okay ?" He asked, forgoing any kind of salutation. The kid jumped before blurting his usual "I'm fine" out.

Lifting an eyebrow, the wolf grabbed him by the arm -not too violently- and dragged him outside.

"So." He said once they were alone, facing each other on the porch. "What's up with you ?"

"What ?"

"You've been acting strange all evening ! You didn't talk to anyone and smelled weird, like you were uncomfortable. I know it has something to do with what happened the other night at my loft, so explain."

Stiles squirmed under his awaiting gaze, cheeks blushing furiously, anxiety rising up.

"Stiles." He repeated, more softly this time. "You can talk to me. Did I do something wrong ?"

The human looked up to meet his eyes, a hundred of expressions passing over his face.

"No, you didn't do anything, 's just me." He mumbled, turning his stare downwards again. "I overreacted, that's all. And now I feel stupid."

"Hey, I can understand that you were feeling uncomfortable. I'm not mad at you or anything." Derek felt the need to clarify.

"Yeah, yeah, just forget it. I made a fool of myself and that's it-"

"Stiles." The werewolf cut him, stepping closer. "I'm not judging you, never have, and don't even think I could ever mock you, okay ?"

Staring at him with wide, surprised eyes, Stiles could only nod.

"Good." Derek concluded, and the teenager sighed, visibly feeling better. "Now, how's your back doing ?"

"Better, put cream on it. It's just only a bit sore, but it's okay."

"Okay, I'm glad."

With a last shared smile, they got back inside where the rest of the pack had just started watching a movie and joined them, Stiles already babbling again like his usual self.

❈

A few months later, Derek took Stiles' shirt off entirely, this time, for a totally different reason, and it only took a couple minutes to calm the panicking teen down enough to purchase their... Activities.

Chapter Text

Stiles would never be the same again.

It took him Allison away, his best friend's first love, the strongest girl he'd ever met.

It took him Aiden, a person he never liked, never trusted. Until he was gone.

It took him his father's deputies and Melissa's colleagues.

It took him dozens of lives, and even more hearts, broken by grief.

It took him his own sanity.

It took him weeks to get up anew.

Months to let out a genuine laugh.

But he never felt like himself again.

He was more scared than anything, more than by werewolves and dread doctors, more than by beserkers and evil characters, to find out it still was there.

Sometimes his skin felt too cold, sometimes the creases under his eyes were too deep when he brushed his finger over them and his cheeks too hollow. Sometimes he thought his voice was too glacial and his movements too controled.

When Theo arrived, claiming he wanted Void Stiles, he felt like throwing up.

Because it meant that it could still be inside him. That it could come back, take possession of his body.

Stiles always had one way to think : ignore a problem until it goes away.

That's why he never dared to check if he could still see it behind his eyes.

And he was afraid to, one day, see his reflection look back at him with this dead, empty, lifeless gaze.

So he avoided it. His reflection.

He had nightmares about it. Several times.

It was frightening, almost as frightening as the face -his face- staring right back at him with cruelty and hunger written over its -his- features.

The last time he saw himself -his body, his reflection was alive. As alive as it could be. And there wasn't even any mirror near.

It moved on its own. It screamed words Stiles -the real one- had never created, it threatened his friends and himself -Stiles- but a reflection wasn't supposed to do any of that.

A reflection wasn't supposed to kill people.

A reflection wasn't supposed to be killed, if its owner wasn't killed at the same time too.

It made Stiles doubt his own beating heart.

How could a spirit die ?

How could he be sure it was gone ?

After all, his skin had always felt too tight since then, as if there were too many people inside it.

He didn't want to know.

He couldn't know anyway, he would never know.

But he still didn't dare to look at himself.

When he felt strong -less weak- enough again he shaved his head. He managed to make his skin bleed, because he couldn't see what he was doing.

But at least, having no hair kept him from having to brush and style it.

Which always involved seeing yourself.

Scott did it for him the second time, and always since.

He had put a towel over his bathroom's mirror, eyes closed, but his father had removed it, because he didn't know.

When Stiles saw the glass uncovered, he immediately looked away and crashed his fist on it. The sheriff found him in the middle of a panic attack, covered in cuts and blood and tears, sitting on the floor, surrounded by broken pieces of the mirror, and the teenager still hadn't opened his eyes.

Since, there weren't any shiny surfaces in the house ever again.

He still had his favorite red jacket.

He loved it even more now because it had a hood wide enough to narrow his range of view -so he couldn't catch sight of his reflection in a nearby window or black screen- and to hide him from the others -because they could see it if it was there.

He constantly wore it, washing it by hand with trembling fingers because it took less time than to put it in the machine.

It was the only illusion of security he had left.

If he thought about it, seeing a reflection was what saved him from killing himself when the Onis had trapped them in a snowy garden.

It was his divine move.

A mirror only reflects the truth.

But he didn't want to know if the truth was that it wasn't gone, or that he hadn't been saved at all.

He couldn't trust anyone to tell him if he was still alive. Nobody knew anyway.

A divine move only works once and never again. Maybe it was a way to warn him. To keep him from looking at a reflection. Or to trust what he would see if he did.

So he didn't think about it.

And he didn't dare to look at himself.

Because every time he closed his eyes he could see his face crumbling in dust in the school's hallway anyway.

His double from behind the glass had died at that moment.

Because he never saw him again.

Chapter Text

"Stiles", came Scott's hurried voice through the phone. "You need to come, we found her. Meet us at the preserve."

Without letting his best friend any time to answer, he hung up and left Stiles standing alone in the silence of his room, his cellphone still in hand.

He sighed. Now was really the moment for that rogue omega they'd been chasing for a week to show up. "It's just the beginning of the year, and it's already shitty", he thought bitterly as he put a second t-shirt on. Evenings of early January shouldn't be spent in the forest, especially those with dark nights and snow falling.

After grabbing a hoodie and his coat, he locked the house and jogged to his jeep, slamming the door closed as soon as he was in it, not to let the cold in.

He shakily blew on his fingers while the car powered up, rubbing them together to erase the feeling of the freezing air he felt on them during the short walk from the porch to his vehicle, before putting the gloves he was always keeping in his pocket on.

Of course Roscoe didn't have heating, but the warmth of the motor seemed enough to keep it at a livable temperature during the drive to the preserve.

❈

When Stiles was a kid he loved watching TV, specifically this particular show about an explorer who traveled around the entire world, from France's tiny villages to hidden ruins in Peru.

The episode that marked him the most was the one where he climbed the Mount Everest.

Being very young when he saw it, he didn't remember much of it. Except the part when one of the guides accompanying the explorer was telling him how many people lost their toes or fingers to the cold.

Little Stiles had been stuck -frozen- on the sofa, eyes wide and breath held, as pictures of black, dead digits and red deformed limbs were displayed on the screen. His mom found him in the same spot when the show had already ended, he had been to afraid to turn the TV off himself.

Because then he'd had have to leave the warm blanket thrown over his frame, sitting cross-legged between cushions, his hands and bare feet safely tucked in the plaid, and as scared as he had been in that moment he thought crossing the cold living room with its hard wooden floor would have costed him a few toes, and Stiles didn't want to lose any of them.

The only thing he wanted to lose was the memory of those awful pictures of frost bitten skin.

Which he didn't.

❈

As he reached the end of the road, the headlights of the Jeep revealed a familiar Camaro already parked there, along with several pairs of glowing eyes.

He got out of the car unceremoniously as soon as it was stopped and immediately walked to the small group of people gathered under the trees. Hands deeply tucked in his pockets, chin folded under the neck of his coat, he breathed inside his vest as he felt the glacial air engulf him. Tiny snowflakes were dancing in the wind, adding an almost poetic vibe to the usual silence that accompanied winter, Stiles knew the fine layer of white creaking under his shoes wouldn't stay that thin for much longer.

He also wished he left the car's light on because he couldn't really see anything in the night.

"Hey." He announced himself curtly, muffled by the fabric, as if someone hadn't noticed his presence yet.

"Good, everyone's here." Scott replied with a nod. "We know the omega is in the preserve, Derek caught her scent earlier." As the teenager explained the plan to catch her, by dividing the group in duos, each going a different way in hope to trap the werewolf inside their circle and gradually reduce the distance between the duos until they have the rogue caught between them- classic but had always worked this far- Stiles shivered, eyes roaming around. The werewolves didn't seem bothered by the cold at all, except Isaac, hidden in a scarf, which had probably something to do with the freezer he used to be locked in. Stiles gave him a sympathetic smile, understanding very well his unease.

"Okay, so Erica and Boyd you'll go this way." Scott directed as he pointed to different directions, heavy clouds of fog forming under his words. "Isaac and Derek by there, and Stiles and I -here."

With a final nod, everyone went off, disappearing in the trees.

The human walked alongside his best friend in silence, closer than normally, hoping being inside the forest would protect them from the wind.

❈

Even years before she was diagnosed, Stiles' mom had always been cold.

The kid, already constantly wearing multiple layers and warm socks in the fear of getting frostbites, was happy to cuddle with her under fuzzy blankets, sipping hot cocoa, as they watched a movie when the sheriff had evening shifts.

The closer they got to her last days, the hotter the house became, because she always went to set the heating up, despite her husband's attempts to explain to her that it was warm enough, that it was the middle of summer.

But she kept getting colder and colder. Stiles remembered her cool fingers holding his small hand as they walked together. "Mom, your hands are always so cold, you should wear gloves or you'll have frostbites." He had warned her in his worried little kid's voice, but she merely smiled at him and patted his head with her glacial digits. Sometimes he could still feel them linger in his hair.

And one day she died. Her frozen body gave its last breath as Stiles held her hands one last time, and it kept getting colder and colder, until Stiles was pushed out of the way and Melissa took him in her arms.

The kid had been convinced that it was because her hospital room wasn't warm enough and her sheets too thin.

The sheriff didn't smile at him when he told him that, but his eyes were sad, and the pat on his head felt like it too.

❈

The two best friends kept walking in the woods, Scott scenting the air in hope to catch a whiff of the omega, Stiles following uselessly and trying not to trip -too much- on roots.

"Scott, why am I even here ?" He asked after a moment, shaking his body slightly to chase the shivers away. "It's not like I can do much except following you like a puppy."

"You're the one always asking to be included in missions." The wolf reminded him kindly, at what Stiles simply shrugged.

"Not in this weather."

"We'll be quick." He answered with an assured smile, wiping the snow that had fallen on his shoulders.

Stiles did the same, immediately regretting the warmth of his pockets. A chill went up his spine -and he knew this one wasn't because of the cold- as he looked at his cotton covered fingers, the tips now a little wet. The air blew more glacially on these parts. He swallowed nervously as he realized his feet started to feel tingly too, and hastily shoved his hands back in his coat pockets, hoping they would get warmer again.

The two teenagers had been walking for maybe ten minutes when they heard a distant howl.

"Boyd." Scott announced, head tipped up as he listened more closely. "He's signalling her position. Let's get closer."

Stiles had no choice but to follow him, curling and uncurling his toes in his boots to make the numbness lessen. As he reached out a shaking hand to zip his vest higher, he found himself in difficulty to make it obey. His whole body felt like needles were poking at his skin.

"Scott." He stressed, his breathing hitched. "I'm like, getting really cold. And I- I hate this."

The werewolf turned around, alert, at his panicked voice. "Look, we're almost there. I can already hear the others and the Omega, okay ?"

"No- No you don't understand." He stammered, walking closer to his best friend -closer to his warmth. "I'm cold- Scott I don't want to stay here- I want to go home-"

"Hey hey Stiles, come here." The other teenager looped his arms around Stiles' shivering body, pressing him against his werewolf-body heat. "Shit you're really cold." He realized, worried, as the human tucked his hands in his vest and breathed shakily on his neck, sniffing messily as his nose kept running.

"That's what I've been telling you." He slurred. "You're really hot- Warm."

Because he was. Stiles didn't really know if his hands felt more or less numb now that they were surrounded by heat, but it hurt when they rubbed against the fabric of Scott's coat and his gloves were burning on his skin. Maybe it was the beginning of frostbites. He only realized after a moment that he still had feet because he couldn't feel them anymore, and that made him jerk his head in panic, glancing down to see the shadow of his snow covered boots still here. He tried to lift one foot, but it was too heavy and he didn't remember it ever being this heavy-

"Stiles, you think you can hold on for a bit longer ?" At the lack of response, he caught the human by the shoulders to look at him. He only whined at the loss of contact. "Dude your heartbeat isn't normal." He whispered more at himself than anyone else, but Stiles still heard him through the chattering of his teeth and- his heartbeat wasn't normal.

"Sc-ott, I don't wanna die, please Sc'tt...It's too cold. I don't wanna-"

"You're not dying bro, you're not dying."

Stiles wanted to believe him, but he couldn't really think at the moment. It was too dark to see but he could feel his hands tremble as they were pressed,curled limply against Scott's chest, and it burned, it burned but he couldn't move them- and he couldn't stop seeing his mom's hands shake and his mom died and she was cold-

He tried to speak again, but his jaw kept snapping close as his teeth clicked and then he couldn't even remember what he wanted to say but he was shaking and shaking- Had he already lost his toes ? He didn't want to lose them either, he didn't wan-

"Stiles, I'm bringing you back to the cars- Shit I should have known- Derek ! Derek !"

The human went limp in Scott's arms, feeling to heavy for himself. His body heat didn't feel this warm now, maybe Stiles sucked it all out, could that happen ?

He was vaguely aware of Scott still screaming but it probably wasn't at him, why would he scream if Stiles was right here ? -His ears were hurting to much- Except if he was yelling at Stiles but he wasn't answering, but in that case Scott could have started shaking him, wouldn't- oh, shaking. Stiles wasn't shaking anymore, and he did know that wasn't a good sign.

His mom had stopped shaking at some point.

Now he didn't have feet anymore, he couldn't feel them, couldn't see them on the ground and it should worry him more than that but it was to tiring and he felt heavy and broken and it hurt it hurt.

But then his mom had died.

He didn't want to die, he didn't want to die-

"You're not dying." He suddenly heard Scott's voice right in his ear, and he probably had cotton in his ears before because he didn't remember ever hearing this well. "Stiles, what are you sayin- Stiles ! Stay with me buddy, stay with me."

Scott was speaking awfully loud, and he registered the world spinning around him. He felt sick. His body was too heavy, but it wasn't touching the ground anymore- He felt so cold it was burning. And everything was blurry and why was he moving ?

He didn't want to leave his dad.

He'd already lost his mother to the cold, to the cold.

"Mom..."

He finally understood that Scott was carrying him somewhere, hopefully away from the forest and the snow and the wind and the needles that kept hurting his skin and his lungs- oh god his lungs.

"We're almost there Stiles, buddy, hold on-" But Stiles wasn't listening anymore. Maybe it was dark, but it didn't keep him from seeing flashes of black fingers and chopped off toes and he didn't want to lose them-

Scott's breath on his neck felt like a hammer crushing his entire throat.

If he was more aware, maybe he would be more terrified at the idea that he was dying-

He roared in pain as his entire back suddenly touched something hard and awfully immobile- it wasn't Scott, it wasn't anyone.

His ears felt clogged again but he still heard something slam, reverberating sharply on his frozen skin and Scott wasn't there anymore.

That was it.

He was dying.

He allowed himself to gasp for air, tearing his lungs open, and he realized he was lying on something- his mom's bed. He was lying on a hospital bed because he was dying and she had died and-

"Stiles, Stiles you're okay." A hand pressed down on his chest lightly, forcing him to lay again but it wasn't burning as much as before. He still thought it broke some ribs but he was dying anyway. "We're in Derek's car, we're okay." Oh, Scott. He was back.

"I put the heating on, it'll get warmer soon okay ? Keep your eyes open bro."

There were hands on his face, but it felt more like claws digging in his skin, wiping the snow and the ice from his face. He took a shuddering breath as Scott then opened his coat and why was he opening his coat- He faintly tried to bat him away but only managed to lift his arm an inch before he gave up. "You got snow everywhere..." He heard the werewolf mutter above him right before Scott's fingers were brushing the white powder out of where it lodged itself between skin and fabric. His hands were still as painful as sharp rocks, and Stiles didn't even know how to describe how his skin felt.

Through heavy lidded eyes, he watched his best friend taking off his own vest, then his jumper, pressing the latter around Stiles' neck, getting a sigh out of him as the warmth spread on his frozen skin. "Keep your eyes open." Scott reminded him as he proceeded to undress the human off his wet clothes. He manhandled his limp body in a sitting position the time to take his vest completely off, gently laying him down again before placing his own open coat over the shivering teenager, like a heavy blanket. When had he started shivering again ?

At this point Stiles wasn't really aware anymore, but he nuzzled in the shirt on his throat, relinquishing in the soft, warm material- Oh right, eyes open. He didn't want to keep them open. He wanted to sleep, and for that his eyes should be closed-

His mom had closed her eyes too.

He blinked the blur away and met Scott's worried gaze, crouched in the space between the back seats and the passenger one, now only understanding fully that his friend carried him into Derek's Camaro, which had heating he had said...

"I did." Scott answered, had he been talking out loud ? "But it takes time for it the heat to kick in."

"Oh." He was still so fucking tired, but at least he felt better now. His shoes and socks were gone now, his feet wrapped in the inside of his coat, feeling warmer than it had when he was wearing it.

He could feel his body slowly warming up but his teeth had never stopped chattering and the shivers racking his body were more uncomfortable than anything. His hands and feet were still numb and he suddenly remembered what danger they were in.

"Sco-Scott ! My fingers, fuck- My fingers-" He slurred, hastily reaching out of the coat covering him and the movement caused his entire back and arms to seem like a line of fire, but his hands his hands- "You're okay Stiles." The werewolf reassured him quietly. He took Stiles' fists as delicately as possible in his, as if they were made of sugar- it felt like it though. "Look, you're fine. You're not injured." And he wasn't, he realized. His digits only looked raw, red by the cold, eaten by the wind, but they were still all there, only a little bit difficult to move. He let himself fall back against the seats, which had become hotter now that he thought about it. He should thank Derek for having such a nice car one of these days.

"You're okay, but I should still take you to the hospital bro, just to be sure..."

"No, no..." He mumbled, closing his eyes now that Scott said he was fine. "I wanna go home, just want to sleep for weeks..."

"Stiles-"

"Mom died in a hospital." He blurted out, not really realizing he said it. "I don't want to die... Just sleep, sleep but not die."

Scott sighed above him, still holding his hands in his warm palms. "Stiles, is your dad home now ?"

"No, working, always working."

He heard Scott start to say something, but they were interrupted by a noise outside, and the werewolf stood up- well, as much as he could inside a car- and a second later a door opened and cold, a wave of ice fell on him and he gasped, retreating further in the seats before the door slammed closed again. "Shit- sorry I didn't think-" That was Derek's voice, he recognized it, coming from what seemed to be the driver's place.

"S'okay." He mumbled, curling on his side, Scott having to rearrange the clothes over him.

The two werewolves were discussing something, the omega, he guessed from the older man's curt "I dealt with her", but he tuned out their voices until Scott asked for his attention again. 

"Hey, we're going to Derek's loft buddy. I just need to give your keys to Boyd so he can drive the Jeep okay ?"

He merely nodded in agreement, just wanting to sleep, and let his best friend search the coat's pockets at his feet.

Scott didn't shake him awake when he drifted off during the drive, so it probably meant that he wasn't in the risk of not opening his eyes again.

❈

But he did wake him up when they arrived at Derek's loft, his Jeep following behind. As the human was completely drained of energy and his feet still weren't capable of obeying him, Scott wrapped him in his arms again and carried him inside, surrounded by the other worried betas.

He was taken to the bathroom, and while Scott made sure he could stand on his own for a minute, Derek brought them warm, soft clothes to change into. Stiles' best friend only helped him to take off his shirt and pants, because his fingers were too numb, but let him deal with his underwear, which the sheriff's son was grateful for. It wasn't an easy task, but he finally managed to get himself into Derek's sweatpants.

Once they were both in dry clothes, he was led to the couch and laid down, quickly wrapped in covers and a comforter he was sure came from the Alpha's own bed. Eyes closed, bathing in the comfortable warmth surrounding him, he only groaned quietly as he was propped up against Erica and a hot cup was brought to his lips. He reached out to hold it by himself but seeing he wasn't able to without spilling out half of the beverage, he let the blond girl help him, still keeping his hands around it to warm them up.

He was pleased to learn Derek Hale apparently had hot cocoa in his kitchen.

He sighed contently, leaning further down against the werewolf, sipping slowly, letting the drink spread its heat inside his body.

He was already falling asleep again when Erica put the cup on the coffee table with a fond laugh, bringing an arm around the teenager's chest, keeping him close.

❈

He woke up to the sounds of voices, ones he recognized as being Scott's and Derek's, sounding like they were arguing quietly. He didn't bother opening his eyes, maybe because he wasn't completely conscious again.

"You should have taken him to the hospital." He caught the Alpha say, and he guessed easily that they were talking about him.

"He's fine,  Derek. He'll be just fine."

"But why didn't you take him to the hospital Scott ? Why ? It should have been you first thought ! What if it got worse ? Would you have let him die right there ?"

"I couldn't. I couldn't take him to the hospital because he said no. Because for whatever reason he kept mumbling about his mom and how she was cold when she died in a hospital. He was terrified Derek ! It would've only made things worse for him ! That's why, that's why I didn't and nothing bad happened, so be glad about it."

Stiles' breath went as silent as Derek, and everyone else in the room too. He didn't remember talking about his mother, but he didn't remember much of the rest either. He stayed as still as possible at that revelation, not wanting to attract more attention to himself than he already had. If only he was still asleep.

He felt Erica's hand brush in his hair, hushing him quietly, and that got Scott's attention from wherever he was standing.

"Hey bro." He greeted him as he crouched beside the couch. "You're feeling better ?"

The girl's finger kept carding through his hair reassuringly, and he nodded slightly, lids still shut. He was indeed feeling better. He could almost forget he had been in hypothermia right before. He was feeling good, cuddled in too many blankets and comfortable clothes.

"I sent a message to your dad so he won't have to worry about your absence. We're staying the night here, is that okay ? We'll worry about school tomorrow, see if you're feeling good enough."

He nodded again before turning on his side, curled up like a child, head resting in Erica's lap. He felt safe now.

"Does anyone want to eat something ?" Derek asked the room, sounding afar.

He didn't answer in his slumber, but a few minutes later another cup of chocolate and a bowl of soup were brought to him anyway. He only realized then how hungry he was.

His whole body felt sore as he sat up, eating and drinking quietly, as did everyone else.

Later when they were finished and everyone was longing to go to sleep, he felt himself being carried somewhere, but it was warm and soft and there were arms around him and bodies pressing against his.

"After effort comes comfort", he thought contently, surrounded by his friends, his pack.

Chapter Text

It seemed so easy with Stiles. It was almost too good to be true.

At first Derek doubted it. Then he decided he didn't deserve it, but he was quickly proved wrong by this beautiful, selfless, brave and loyal boy. Then he was hugged, and later he was kissed. And they were both smiling, eyes locked in each other's.

And since then everything had been perfect. Almost as perfect as the human he had the joy to call his boyfriend.

Dating Stiles consisted of a lot of food dates, worrying over each other constantly, awkward dinners with the sheriff and long evenings, spent cuddled together in a bed or in front of the TV. It was smiles and laughs, apologies whispered behind his ears when he was upset, hugs and kisses, failed meals and a lot of take out. Stiles encouraging him to organise pack nights and helping him with human relations. Arguing before supernatural missions because he didn't want to lose him, and kissing him, hard, when everyone was alive. Driving through the city. Sleeping with a warm body against his and less nightmares on both parts. Sunsets. Stiles loved looking through the loft's windows as the evening painted the sky pink above the town. Laughs, and sometimes dancing in the kitchen. Derek started working again when the human found out the local library had a job to offer. It was also coming home to welcoming arms, and wiping the human's tear streaked cheeks when he was sad or afraid. Talking about his family a little, opening up, allowing himself to cry, too.

Feeling safe.

Stiles learned his boundaries, learned his body language, learned his history. Stiles didn't push him, never.

And Derek couldn't be more grateful about it.

They were together for almost three months now, and neither of them had asked for more yet. They were content with holding each other, entangling their legs, kissing, kissing, kissing. Kissing Stiles was Derek's favorite thing.

He knew the human was letting him hold the reins, because he'd warned him when they started dating that he wanted to take things slow, that he wasn't ready after what happened with his previous relationships. And the boy respected it, waiting for something that would maybe never come with a patience Derek didn't know he possessed.

Now he trusted Stiles, he loved Stiles, he wanted Stiles. He was ready.

❈

"This movie is stupid." The human declared this evening right before he turned it off with a click on the remote, lying on the loft's couch, Derek pressed against his back, an arm around his waist to keep him close.

"Do you want to watch something else ?" He asked, not really paying attention as his face was burrowed in the younger man's hair, inhaling his sweet scent. He didn't even know what they had been watching.

"Nah." Stiles turned around, hardly not falling off the sofa, to face the werewolf and lean in, pressing his lips against the soft smile Derek always wore when he was pleased. "I'm getting tired of staring at that screen."

The wolf hummed, shifting slightly so he could explore more of the boy's pale skin covering his throat. "What do you want to do then ?"

"Don't know... But this is nice, I like this."

"I may have some ideas of what we could do." Derek hinted as he let the hand on Stiles' back roam a little bit further down. He felt his body tense up slightly under his fingers, but relaxed after an instant.

"I hope it involves cuddling." The human mumbled, nuzzling the older man's neck, who just chuckled fondly.

"It certainly involves some sort of cuddling, yes." He whispered in his ear as he sat up, bringing the other with him and picked him up, bridal style, to walk the few meters to his bed, often shared in the last months. He gently laid Stiles on the covers, his expression interrogative as the wolf climbed above him, leaning down to kiss him slowly.

They had done that before, suggestive make out sessions, but it had always ended there, which wasn't what Derek wanted tonight.

Stiles' hands found their way in his hair, where they roamed as if looking for something, squirming under the werewolf's wet lips. He heard the human's heart rate increase as his mouth trailed down his throat, reaching the collarbones hidden under his t-shirt, which he quickly pushed away with a swipe of his chin.

"D- Derek, you sure about this ?" He panted, hands now cupped behind Derek's neck.

"Yes, I'm ready. I want this. Want you."

"Okay."

Momentarily destabilized by Stiles' hesitant tone, he quickly returned to sucking on his neck, leaving a trail of light hickeys on the boy's pale skin.

The younger man kept shifting under him, sometimes jerking a little, but Derek knew that was a normal reaction when you weren't used to be touched like that. So he kept exploring his body, a hand sliding under Stiles' shirt, on his soft taut belly, mouth returning to the man's own, who seemed a little left behind when he returned the kiss.

Derek thought fondly that it was cute how inexperienced he seemed, too entranced to do much, his hands clutching the wolf's neck like he didn't know where else to put them.
The image of himself years ago, when he was losing his virginity too, acting the same way crossed his mind. No. It's not the same, he reminded himself. This is not the same. She didn't love him-

Stiles inhaled sharply as the werewolf's hands reached his chest, hips rolling down on the boy's own, who flinched at the contact.

"You okay ?" He breathed between deep kisses, loving the fast beat of his boyfriend's heart, the shuddering that escaped his bruised lips.

"Y-Yeah."

"Good." He whispered before attacking his ear lob with his teeth, Stiles turning his head under him, pressing his side in the mattress, as if to allow him more space to nibble on.

That's when he registered the younger man's frowning browns, tight shut eyes and trembling jaw, the corners of his mouth tugging down.

Kate straightened up, looking down at his crumpled face, smiling lovingly at the teenager, her forehead crinkled with lines of worry. "Don't you want this honey ? Don't you want me ?"

Stiles shook his head shakily. "Yes- Yeah- Sorry, just keep going, it was...I'm good, just you know, first time ?" He offered him a tight smile, letting his hands slide down to Derek's shoulders. The werewolf still wasn't convinced, but kissed him tentatively, staring into his warm honey eyes.

"You tell me okay ? We don't have to do this."

Stiles only nodded and leaned up to catch the older man's lips.

She resumed exploring his body, pushing his shirt up and tugging it slightly, asking him silently to take it off. The teenager opened his eyes and hastily removed it, throwing it somewhere in the room, not caring about anything else than pleasing the woman above him.

"Stiles." He called when the boy hadn't reacted, and his fingers were digging too tightly in his shoulders. The teen's eyes shot open and that's when Derek realized that what he thought was arousal and excitement smelled more like fear and the nervousness emanating from his body wasn't the normal stress you felt during your first time.

"Why are you nervous sweetie ? It's just me, I won't hurt you."

He jerked away, jumping off the bed, putting distance between their bodies. Stiles didn't look up at first, breathing deeply, shakily, now alone on the sheets, but then sat up on weak arms. "Derek ?" He croaked out, and the werewolf was sure he didn't invent that hint of relief in his voice. "Are you okay ?"

Kate licked a strip up his stomach, keeping her eyes on him. The teenager shuddered under her, pushing the thoughts that told him that he didn't like this, didn't want it, away. She was attractive, she wanted him, so he could only want her in return.

"Oh god- Oh god- Stiles I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." He stammered, trying to chase away the thoughts haunting him. "I- I didn't- I didn't think you- I'm so sorry-"

"Derek ?" A line of worry tinted his nervous attitude. "Derek what are you talking about ?"

The older man exhaled, still not stepping closer to the bed, where Stiles had brought his legs to himself and sat awkwardly, unsure and anxious and his heartbeat going crazy and he seemed to breath faster and less at the same time-

"Derek-" He rasped out, shuffling closer but Derek saw the stiffness in his arms and he noted how he looked so afraid, so broken.

Oh god he was afraid of him-

"Sti-"

The boy was hyperventilating now, oh god he was working himself in a panic attack, he was working himself in a panic attack because Derek almost took advantage of the teena-

"I'm sorry."

And then the boy was sprinting out of the bed, right into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. He heard him collapse against it and gasp for air as Derek could only stand helplessly on the other side.

He paced anxiously as the time passed and his boyfriend wasn't calming down. He was crying now and Derek felt close to it too. How could he not see it, how could he not realize Stiles wasn't okay, didn't want to- He was too blinded by his own pleasure. He didn't realize he was taking advantage of a teenager the same way an adult took advantage of him years ago. Luckily, if he could even use this word in the situation, Stiles was more expressive than he was, and he could stop before they got further. Would he have stopped if he couldn't smell the fear on him ?

Almost twenty minutes later, the younger man's breath had evened out into wet sobs and kept repeating whispers like a mantra. He was still pressed against the door, on the floor probably, and Derek didn't know how long he would stay locked in the bathroom. Maybe he waited for him to leave. Should he say something ?

Just as he considered this thought, he caught the words Stiles was murmuring and it froze his skin. He couldn't move, not a sound could keep him from listening to his boyfriend's broken voice pronouncing words that didn't belong to him.

"A pretty boy like you is made to be used."

Derek's whole world broke around him as the teenager used this awful, horrible, sentence like a twisted motivation speech, and he slumped at the foot of the bed, thinking about how he could have heard that, could have been told that-

"A pretty boy like you is made to be used."

His head hanging between his hands, elbows on knees, he cried silently along with Stiles, a door between them, impotent to the younger man's distress.

He could only think about someone telling his boyfriend's those ten words, and if their voice had been full of venom, spitting at the boy's face, or tightened between repulsing moans and wandering hands.

Had he been-

Derek had been abused. Twice. But both time he thought he wanted it. Had been convinced he wanted and liked it. He was in a relationship with his abusers, but the relationship itself was wrong and fake and bad. He still felt disgusted at himself, he still felt raped when the women kept whispering sweet words in his ears and praising his body with soft touches and made love to him, if they'd actually had feelings for him.

But he didn't know if Stiles went through something-

And Derek thought the sheriff's kid wanted it, and then he thought he was taking advantage of him by being older, when it was far worse.

Derek could never rape someone. He knew he couldn't. He loved Stiles. He loved him, the age had never been an issue between them. And there he thought he was her, but he didn't have bad intentions oh god-

When Stiles was traumatized by something.

When he had been told things that were wrong and maybe made to do things that were wrong.

And Derek had his own issues.

This was a mess.

❈

"Stiles ?" He tried hesitantly after more than one hour, approaching the door cautiously, but there was no reaction from the other side. Maybe he fell asleep. He was always exhausted after a panic attack. "Hey, Stiles..."

Still no answer, but now he could hear his heartbeat reveal that he was still awake. He was radiating anxiety.

"Ok, I'm just gonna- I'm going outside, leave you alone okay ?"

And after a moment, he added in a softer, more private voice : "I'm sorry." And hoped Stiles would get it. Would understand all the things he felt and wanted to tell him and wanted to share.

Then he left his own loft.

When he came back in the morning Stiles had left as well, leaving the bathroom's door open as if nothing happened. His phone was off, and Derek knew it wasn't his right to confront him. So he waited.

Chapter Text

"I'll be right there" John sighed before hanging up.

He quickly passed a message on the police radio, and drove to the school, luckily already being right next to the building. If only he could say this was the first time it happened. After parking his car near the entrance, he walked to the nurse's office, wondering worriedly in what state he would find his son this time.

Passed out ? Pale and shaking ? ...Or totally numb ? God last time was absolutely awful to see.

As it turned out Stiles was still lying inconscious on the bed when he entered the small clinic, and the poor nurse was cleaning what seemed like a puddle of vomit on the floor near the door. "Oh sheriff, good you're here." she greeted him, not even bothering to get up from the ground. "He should wake up any time now."

"Mrs. Maria," he responded with another sigh at the sight of the stained cloth in her hands. "Need some help with that ?"

He always felt a bit guilty every time the teenager threw up somewhere in the school and someone had to clean the mess up, which happened more than often at this point. Especially with all the trauma the kid had to deal with these last years, the panic attacks and freaking out sessions got even more frequent. The nurse only answered with a shake of the head and tight smile, assuring him that she got that, so the man concentrated on his son, still on his side in the high bed.

His skin was definitively paler than usual, and he could see the remnants of sweat that hadn't be wiped entirely at the top of his forehead. His eyes were closed with the hint of tears that hadn't fallen in the corners, the lashes still dark and clumped from the crying he knew Stiles always did right before he passed out. His mouth slightly open and drooling on the mattress. Well at least it looked like the nurse had washed his lips before she did the ground.

He took one of Stiles' limp hands in his, the fingers clammy and unresponsive. "Oh Stiles... What was it this time kiddo ?"

As expected, Mrs. Maria answered instead of the boy. "I'm guessing a blood test in chemistry. He managed to run here, right before he puked and passed out on the floor. He hit his head when he fell but I'm not too worried about that. Wouldn't be the first time."

"The kid's got a hard head" he agreed, dragging his free hand on Stiles' forehead, hot to the touch. He could see his son's eyes starting to flutter open and squeezed his fingers reassuringly. "There you are..." he murmured, watching the teenager slowly waking up. He waited for the tears to fall as he blinked and lifted his head, trying to regain his surroundings.

It always took a minute or two for him to become completely conscious again, so the sheriff kept on stroking the kid's hair gently and humming little encouragements while the nurse put away her cleaning tools away.

"Dad ?" he croaked out.

"I'm here son, you're alright." the sheriff reassured him. "You passed out, because of a blood test apparently."

"Oh." Stiles let his head fall back against the mattress. "I wonder how much hours of detention Harris will give me after I ran out of his class."

"Don't worry about that kiddo, I'll talk with that man if he can't understand some people are afraid of things. You're okay, that's all that matters."

After the nurse examined his son again, insisting on the possibility of a head wound, she let them go and John sent Stiles to wait in the car while he checked him out of school.

He drove him back home quietly, regularly looking up to the overhead mirror to watch over the teenager. He was still too pale, but that was to be expected, his eyes roaming lazily over the blur behind the passenger window.

After he dropped him at their house, and told him firmly to call if he needed anything, the sheriff had to head back to work, always a little bit reluctant to leave his son alone when he was sick.

He knew that this night Stiles wouldn't get an ounce of sleep, too afraid of the pictures painted behind his eyelids that the red drops of blood reminded him of earlier in class.

He knew that if he was too exhausted to stay awake, he would wake up screaming only a few hours later.

He hated to think about it, but he was already used to it.

To his child losing sleep and sanity because he was thrown in a life he shouldn't even know about.

To his child panicking and passing out because of things that are just regular things to other people.

It was like a habit at this point.

And he hated that he didn't know what to do about it.

Chapter Text

Things are not looking great.

Fuck. Things are fucking not looking great.

Argent just got shot, his gun falling to the ground as his hand shots up to his other bicep, hissing between his teeth.

There's a split second where Stiles thinks the weapon will fire as it hits the ground, but nothing happens beyond the clatter of metal against cement.

"Gr- Grab it !" he hears the man pant, and Stiles scrambles to obey as the adult is already running forward.

He clenches between shaking fingers the handle of the gun, careful of the trigger, and hesitates only a second before hurrying after him, holding the rifle away from his body, trying not to jostle it too much.

Soon, too soon, they find themselves stopped by a closed door and Chris lets his head fall against it, struggling to get his breath back under the pain. Stiles doesn't know what to do, what to say, except watching with horror the blood flow out from under Argent's hand. He flips his body, so that he can rest his back on the door.

"You'll have to defend us." He breathes, sweat dripping down his forehead, skin already too pale. "You know how to use it ?"

Stiles stares at the object in his hands and feels the world narrow to that little machine.

He starts to shake his head, mouth trying to form words but only stutters come through.

"Stiles, do you know how to use it ?" Argent insists more firmly.

The teenager hears him clearly, loud and painful, but doesn't seem to register the words. "I- I- I can- I can't- No- No- I know-"

"Stiles !"

He stares at it. The thick cannon, the slick definition, the way his fingers tremble so much he can barely hold it still. He stares at it so much he can't see anything else beyond it.

"I can't-"

He hears footsteps approach in the corridor, Chris hissing his name, his blood rushing to his ears and his heartbeat thumping in his rib cage.

Knowing how to use one and using it are two very different things.

Of course he knows how to use a gun, his father is a cop, of course he learned years ago how to shoot at the stand.

But he also learned that it's way less fun when it involves someone. God, only a few weeks ago his dad, his dad, had to be hospitalized because of a lost bullet.

Argent is bleeding out in front of him.

The hunters chasing them are coming closer.

They shot one of their own.

And he can't bring himself to move.

The pistol becomes the only thing left, and he forgets if he's staring down at it or up-

His foot steps automatically forward to stop himself from falling and he chokes on a breath.

Suddenly there's someone yelling in his ears and he screws his eyes shut, trying to stop his chest from heaving. He barely registers he's shaking his head and tightening his fingers on the handle, which is slipping between his sweating hands.

The screams become louder, and closer, he can hear them but not understand them.

A hand grabs at his arm and he shoots his eyes open to stare at a white faced Argent trying to catch his attention. It's the last thing he sees before another hand rips the gun from his and uses it to hit him behind the head and he collapses on the ground.

He wakes up shivering on cold hard ground, his hands tied behind his back. He tries to lift up his head to look around but is overcome with a headache so painful he can only whimper and press it back against the cool surface he's lying on. His feet aren't restrained, so he brings his knees under his hips and tries to stand this way. He takes a few seconds breathing hard when all the blood rushes down from his pounding crane, and opens his eyes.

He blinks several times to adjust to the darkness and registers he's in some kind of abandoned storage room, shelves filled with various dirty products standing behind him.

Against the one opposite him is sitting a very pale, but also very furious Chris Argent, glaring right back at him in the low light.

"I'm sorry." Stiles chokes out, cowering under his stare.

The retired hunter is tied the same way as him, hands behind himself too, and it looks like his bullet wounds has been -poorly- bandaged. At least it kept him from bleeding to death.

"I'm sorry." he repeats more quietly. He knows it was his fault that they got caught. If only he wasn't a fucking coward, and hadn't been paralyzed by the idea of using a firearm against someone. And they would have deserved it.

After scowling at him a few more seconds, Chris sighs and sits up straighter. "Come on, at least help me to get us out of here."

Doing just that was a surprisingly easy thing, the hunters seemingly not having bothered to put much effort into imprisoning them. Maybe they thought they were too weak to get out- with one being shot and the other absolutely useless.

After awkwardly standing back to back and untying the older man's wrists before he did the same for him, it only takes a handful of minutes before they manage to break the door down. Well that was mostly Stiles' work because of Argent's injury.

Once outside, they find themselves in the same abandoned mall they were caught in.

"What do we do now ?" He asks, because the hunters still have Scott and Derek somewhere. That's why they were there in the first place.

Chris lets his gaze roam over the empty building before bringing it back to the teenager.

"We don't have any weapons left, I was shot and you're-" He hesitates before finding the right words. "Still in shock. It'll be suicide to try anything else than getting out of here."

"But-"

"Stiles." Argent snaps, and the kid knows that to be the final word.

Escaping the building is too effortless. They have to walk for a while before they reach the car they came with. With their phones in the hunters' possession, they can't even call for help or alert anyone of their situation, so Chris just orders him sharply to drive and the teenager executes himself. His hands never stop shaking against the steering wheel as he brings them to the hospital, guilt filling his eyes with unshed tears. After making sure that the older man will be taken care of, he tries to find Melissa so she could call his dad for him.

But his vision is blurry with salty water and he has to sit down before he collapses. Fuck. Scott and Derek were still in the hunters' hands and it was his fault. If he hadn't-

"Stiles, sweetie, you're okay."

He gasps and stares at the unfocused face of his best friend's mom, who puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder and helps him up from the floor, then she pulls him in a gentle hug. "You're alright sweetheart, everyone's alright."

"Me- Melissa, I'm sorry-" He gets out between hiccups. "He's still- I couldn't help- I couldn't do-"

"It's okay Stiles. Scott's alright, okay ? They managed to get out too. Everyone is safe."

"He- He's-"

"Alright." She reassures him, looking at him right in the eyes. "Scott, Derek, Chris, everyone is fine."

"Oh." He deflates, relieved, and steps back from the nurse, only to be hit with a wave of dizziness again. Scott's safe. Derek's safe.

"But I was told you were hit at the head, so come with me I'll check on that. Your dad is on his way too, yeah ?"

He only nods and follows her to an examination room.

Later, after she diagnoses him with a small concussion, his father envelops him in strong arms and he welcomes the warmth.

"I couldn't- I don't know how you do it but I- Argent was- And they were coming and I couldn't- I just stood there-"

"Oh son, I wish you didn't have to worry about things like that." The sheriff sighs in his child's hair, tightening his grip on him. "I'm glad you didn't shoot, you understand ? I'm glad you didn't do it. You shouldn't have to put a bullet in anyone, ever. I'm glad. I'm glad you got out of there without having to do that."

Stiles sniffles against his dad's chest and thinks to himself that maybe he could be glad with it too.

Chapter Text

Sometimes Stiles wonders about it.

Well still wonders about it.

When he told Malia about a year ago that he was worried about losing touch after school, she was quick and kind, trying to reassure him with her blunt words. But he still lost her, not completely, but he still lost the intimacy, the dependence, that came with her and their relationship.

She has Scott now, though.

When Scott believed Theo over him, that's when he really thought everything was over. His best friend, he still remembers when they were kids and always insisted on the forever, didn't trust him anymore. It was as if he didn't even know him anymore- Stiles wouldn't kill someone. It was as if he wasn't even trying.

But Scott had a lot on his plate at the moment. Stiles wasn't his priority anymore.

Lydia was still catatonic, and he was afraid she would never be conscious again.

His dad was walking along a sharp cliff, lying in that hospital bed. Nobody knew how long he would last. Not a lot of them had hope that he would come back. But he did, he did, and then Stiles was gone.

And Stiles was alone.

His friends, his best friend, his father, his entire pack, forgot he existed. All his belongings were gone, his face on the pictures, his name written on papers. Hell, probably even his initials on that bookshelves had vanished. Ironic how he signed in the middle of all these others letters, just to prove he had been there, he had walked along these people. And all of that disappeared as if it was this easy to erase his entire life. His lacrosse jersey had been given to someone else, like a replacement. Maybe it said how much it didn't matter, him being born or not. Everyone had lived just fine without him on their thoughts, hadn't they ?

What scared him the most was them realizing that, and deciding he wasn't worth being in their lives anymore.

Then he went to college, and if it wasn't for Derek, hell- Derek. The one person he thought he would never see again, one of the first that left him. He would still sit behind a school desk, with students who hated him and teachers who sighed when he raised his hand. He would still go back to his empty dorm room every night and stare at his phone, with no new messages and no one to call him. Even Lydia, his supposed girlfriend, barely had time to answer when he skyped her, too busy with preparing for college. Scott never gave an answer to his message.

If it wasn't for Derek, he wouldn't have come back. He wouldn't have learned that Beacon Hills was at its worse and that nobody alerted him about it. Nobody called for his help, nobody needed him.

In the end, he didn't even save Derek that much, but seeing the older wolf again was worth it.

He hid his worries when they got back.

He said, "You didn't think you were doing this without me, did you ?", but his confident tone was nothing but a mask. Under it, he was not so sure of the answer, and he was afraid he would see the lie in Scott's eyes when he would give it.

But then Derek, who for once seemed more joyful that himself, backed him up with a "without us ?" and a warmth spread in his chest.

There was still an us for someone, at least.

Even if Derek left before, he still considered Stiles a part of his life. Of his team.

And when they explained to the others how they got back, they were bickering like old friends- maybe it's what they became, isn't it ?

And when everything was over, and when they walked away in the night, with each other's arms around them, he still wondered.

Maybe he wouldn't lose them because they'd get separated by time and distance, but maybe he'll lose them the way he lost the first person in his life. When she was supposed to stick for much longer.

Like the forever they didn't repeat anymore.

Chapter Text

He's been in college for a month now, alone and away in Washington. His studies were going well, his classes interesting and hard enough to be challenging. His dad was still in Beacon Hills, and from the updates Stiles received, everything was calm and safe.

Still, sometimes the now young adult had difficulties handling the stress of his new life, sometimes the struggles of a normal college student and the residual trauma of a boy who ran with wolves met and then he could barely bear it. He still had nightmares, he still broke down, he still had panic attacks and he stayed hyper vigilant and he reacted weirdly to things that were harmless to anyone else, but he was getting better.

Even though he also found making new friends hard, he shared a few classes with friendly students who didn't set off any alarms in his head and he found himself hanging out with them every now and then. They would study together, or meet up in someone's room to watch a movie, toss a ball in the park on weekends, drink a cup of coffee together. The little group he had found, four people including himself, has soon discovered that he should avoid parties or too violent movies, and they were great in accepting his struggles.

They were nice to hang out with, but he couldn't see himself keeping contact after college, or maybe he was still thinking that he would spend his whole life at Scott's side and his only.

"Normal friends are good Stiles." Lydia had said when he had called her two weeks into the semester. "You shouldn't be afraid to meet new people. Remember you'll just have to talk once if it doesn't go well, it's not like you'll be choosing if they're worth to be in your pack."

So when his friends suggested they go to a restaurant to celebrate the end of the first month, he forced himself to accept, even though he wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room and breath in the silence and safeness of his space.

The last day of September fell on a Saturday, "the perfect day to eat too much and get wasted" had said Angelo, a guy who shared his English class with him. The Stiles in another universe where werewolves and demons didn't exist would have agreed, but the actual Stiles had only nodded, because he didn't have anything to reply. He didn't drink alcohol anymore anyway.

Angelo's girlfriend Fatima, who was the second person he had befriended, was a terrifying mix between Lydia and Erica, and had already taken control over Stiles' life. On Friday she threw clothes at him- which he had never seen before, and told him to meet them in that exact outfit the next day at the campus' parking at 7pm sharp. He didn't even consider not showing up, or wearing something else, because he knew she would be capable of dragging him physically back to his room to change into what she had picked. She really had some freaky arm muscles.

So that's how he found himself at the parking lot, at seven exactly, in a pair of grey jeans and a dark honey button-up that fitted even better than the clothes he bought himself, his cellphone clutched in a hand, his eyes roaming around to locate his friends. He found them next to Angelo's car, all three already there waiting for him. Fatima greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, seemingly proud of what she did if the "I knew that color would be lovely with those eyes of yours" she purred was anything to go by.

The last member of their little group was her best friend, Lily, a too-nice girl who always reminded Stiles of Kira, except she was loud and confident where the kitsune was shy and discreet. After Fatima introduced them, they realized they had a few classes in common. She was the one to cheer him up after a bad day, but sometimes she was just too much and he didn't know how to tell her to leave him alone without sounding mean. He knew she wouldn't take it that way, but he always felt too bad to say anything. She gave him a joyful "good evening sir !" as he was approaching.

"So where are we going ?" He asked.

"You'll see" grinned Lily with a nudge to Fatima's shoulder, "it's our favorite place !"

He glanced at Angelo who just shrugged in return and rounded his car to get in the driver's seat, the others following behind. The man was the only one of them who had a car in the city, the others having left theirs in their hometown for their younger siblings- or Scott, in his case. Even though he always drove when they were going somewhere, Angelo usually drank too much to get behind the wheel on their way back so Stiles would take over, as he was the only one who would stay sober throughout the night.

Not even ten minutes later, they parked along the pavement of a small street, not far from the city center. The girls lead the group for a short walk and soon enough they were entering an Asian restaurant.

The elegant establishment was quite big and crowded, with dim lights and simple, clean wooden details on the walls.

"Irasshaimase" greeted a waitress, and that's when Stiles realized they were in a Japanese restaurant. "A table for four ?"

After they got seated at what seemed to be one of the last tables available, right in the center of the room where everyone was walking by, they chatted idly while going through the menu. They ordered, and as they waited, Stiles got a bit distracted from the conversation, his eyes wandering curiously around, observing the busy workers and clients.
Most of the customers were students, like them, which he realized was probably because of the proximity to a couple of schools and the low prices he saw written on the menu. They were in groups or alone, eating and laughing quietly between themselves, scattered around the room.

A few tables over sat an entire family, all three generations gathered against the wall behind Stiles. He could hear them converse in Japanese, their voices louder than the rest of the restaurant. He thought about Kira's father, who was so quiet and private, and couldn't imagine him talking like the people behind him. Even Noshiko and her booming voice couldn't compare to the noise they were making.

It made him feel a bit uneasy.

Not only because of the noise, but the entire Japanese culture reminded him of bad things, and if he could ask his friends to eat somewhere else he would. But that would make him sound like an asshole, and this restaurant was the girls' favorite place after all.

Their waitress came back with their orders, placing them diligently on the table and wished them a good meal before she walked away.

"Bon appetit !" cheered Lily, "To our one month of college !"

The others raised their glass in return briefly before digging into the food with hunger. The conversation started again after a few minutes, when everyone groaned about how good it was, but Stiles zoned out again. His mind kept going back to the raised voices behind him.

It seemed like the family was in some kind of argument, someone, who he guessed must be the grandfather, sounding irritated and exasperated. He tried to talk over another voice, but that other person only repeated louder what she had been saying, so the volume kept going up and up.

And suddenly the older man sounded too familiar in the way he menaced something.

Stiles was out of the door even before he even registered he'd gotten up.

He ran.

He ran until he reached a dead-end, where he couldn't hear the voices calling after him anymore, and scrambled to take his phone out of his pocket. His fingers were shaking as he went through his contacts and pressed on the call button, and slid down the wall, the cellphone beeping steadily in his hand.

"Scott ?" he breathed when the other man answered. "Scott- It's back, it- I- I-"

"Stiles- Stiles ! Wait ! What is happening ? Are you okay ?"

"I- No- No, it's here, it's back, Scott. I don't know what to do- It found me, it found me again and I'm- I- Please help me" He whimpered, pressing the phone against his ear, lips trembling.

"What is back Stiles ? Stiles, tell me, what is happening ? Are you hurt ?"

"Please help." He sobbed, now, struggling to take a breath in.

"I can't help you if I don't know what is happening Stiles. Is someone following you ? Is something following you ?"

"Yes- Yes. It's here, I heard it. I- It's the-" He forced himself to calm his hyperventilation- to no avail. "It's the Nogistune, Scott." He whispered finally between whimpers.

"The- Stiles it's gone. It's gone, remember ? Are you having an nightmare ? We locked it, it's not coming back. Ever."

"No no- It can't- I heard it, Scott. I heard it, and it was angry and I- It's here, it's here" he hissed.

"Okay" the werewolf said. He didn't know if his tone was supposed to calm him or Scott himself, but it didn't seem to be working on either side. "Stiles, can you tell me where you are ? Are you in Washington ?"

It was in frustration, this time, that he cried into the phone. "I don't know. I ran. I don't know where I am."

"Okay, that's okay, but you haven't left the city right ? Do you think you can look up your localisation on your phone for me ? I need you to do that Stiles."

"I don't want to leave you." He whispered, bringing his knees closer to his tear streaked cheeks.

"You don't have to, just turn the localisation on and tell me where you are. Can you do that ?"

He nodded even though Scott couldn't see him, and brought the phone in front of his face, trying to press on the right buttons. "My- My hands are shaking too much." His vision wasn't focused, he could barely see what was written on the screen.

"Try again, please Stiles."

He whined, but insisted until he finally found the right icon and turned it on. "Okay. It's on." He breathed. "I'm next to Massachusetts Avenue- I don't think I'm too far."

"Good, good. Now do you have someone that you can call ? Someone near you."

His knee jerked because of his nerves, but he shook his head. "I don't know- I guess but, I don't want to hang up. Don't leave me alone." It's still out there. I don't think I can trust anyone else.

"Stiles, just do what I say okay ? You need to believe me : the Nogitsune can't come back. You are safe from that, alright. But right now you're still freaking out in the middle of the night, and that's not safe. I need you to call one of your friends and ask them to come and get you. You can call me back as soon as they're on the way, I'll be there. I promise."

"I don't know..."

"Do it, I swear I'll answer as soon as you call me back."

And with that he hung up.

Still crying, Stiles was shivering in the cold of the night, terrified that if he tried to call anyone else he'll hear its voice again, taunting him in a language he couldn't understand.
He realized then that his phone was flooded with missed calls and messages from his friends. He took a deep breath and called back the first person he saw.

"Stiles ! Oh my god." Turned out it was Angelo. "Stiles, where are you man ? Are you okay ? Tell me where you are, we'll come get you. Are you hurt ?"

"I'm- I'm- Next to Massachusetts Avenue, I don't know where, a narrow street, I- I'm at a dead end ? My phone isn't more precise than that- I'm sorry- Please come-"

"We're coming buddy, we're on our way. Stay on the phone. I'll just pass it to Fatima so I can drive. Stay with us."

Stiles was anxious to call Scott back, but he guessed it'd be easier if he could give directions directly to his other friends. He gnawed on his thumb as he heard the phone being shuffled to another person.

"Stiles, you still there ?" Asked Fatima's voice. "Stay right where you are. We'll be there soon. Are you hurt ?"

He stuttered a no out, hunching on himself even more.

"Okay, are you cold then ?"

"Yes." He breathed.

"We'll be there soon." She repeated. He could hear the worry in her voice. "Do you know what happened ? Did you have a panic attack ?"

"Yes."

"Alright, okay. Have you called someone else before us ?"

"Scott. He- He told me to call you. I have to call him back."

"Wait, wait. You can call him back after we find you Stiles. You can tell him you're safe when you're with us okay ?"

"O- Okay."

"Good, good. Look, we're on the avenue. Do you have any idea where you went after ?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know."

"Alright, then we'll just split up and search in the other streets." He heard her get out of a car. "Stay on the phone with me. You don't have to talk, I just need to know you're still okay."

"Yeah- Okay."

So he waited, shaking in the cold, Fatima's heavy breathing coming through the speaker. He could feel the fog in his mind slowly dissipating, revealing more clearly what had happened. Scott's words came back in his mind when his breath hitched over the memories of its voice. We locked it, it's not coming back. Ever.

"I had an episode." He whispered in his cellphone.

"Oh." Fatima sounded surprised, probably more at him saying it than at the information. She surely had guessed it already. "Do you want to talk about it ?"

"I can't."

"Do you know what triggered it ? Was it something we did ?"

"I- Yeah- I mean, I heard something. It reminded me of..." he trailed of, not knowing how to explain to her without revealing anything suspicious.

"But was it something we did ? Something we can avoid in the future ?"

"No. No, I'm sorry it's- It's just me. I'm sorry-"

"Hey hey, don't be sorry Stiles." She comforted, her voice soft and warm. He wanted to relax as he listened to it, but then foot steps resonated in the otherwise silent street. He tensed up, inhaled a sharp breath, not knowing who was approaching. "Stiles ? Everything okay ?"

He didn't answer as he tightened his arm around his knees, eyes wide and searching through the darkness.

"Is someone there ? Stiles."

But then he heard Lily's voice calling his name from the shadows, and released only slightly the tension in his body. Only a few seconds later, he could make out her silhouette a few meters from him. Fatima was still worrying against his ear, but he paid her no attention as he waited anxiously for his other friend to notice him. He knew he should signal his presence, but he found himself immobilized in place by the fear of her seeing him like that. After what happened.

She seemed to have realized there was someone else in that street, and approached cautiously his small form, curled against a wall.

"Stiles is that you ?"

He breathed heavily, Fatima gone silent too, and tried to force himself to move, to talk.

In the end he only let out a tiny, pathetic whimper, and Lily rushed to kneel down in front of him.

"Stiles ! Stiles, are you with me ?" she was now putting her hand on his knee, but he jerked away with a flinch. At the same time, Fatima was yelling in his phone, which was still clutched between his fingers and pressed against his ear, but he didn't- couldn't move.

Lily must have heard her friend's voice through the speaker, because she ripped the cellphone from his grip and brought it to her own ear. "I found him. He's frightened or something. Not responding. Get here." She finished, hanging up and sliding his phone in her back pocket before centering her attention on him. She didn't touch him this time.

"Stiles" she tried again. "Stiles can you answer me ? Do you recognize me ?"

He nodded. She grinned.

"You're okay now, we'll get you back to your room. I just need to call Angel' and tell him to bring his car here. Then we'll get you back to somewhere warm, you must be fucking cold right now."

He only stared at her for a second before she deemed it to be an acceptable enough reaction and called Angelo. She gave him a few directions before pocketing the cell again.

"Can you stand ?" She asked, reaching her arms out like an offering, and got up before Stiles weakly grabbed her hands and let her pull him up. He was shaking like a leaf, and if it wasn't for her warm palms on his elbows he was sure his knees would have given out.

She gently lead him back outside the narrow alley, and pulled him against her side as they waited for their friends to show up. She was really tall, so it didn't feel too awkward, and he liked the reassuring weight of her arm around his waist and the beat of her heart against his own.

Soon enough, a car reached them and the two others rushed out of it, coming to stand in front of them, their gaze worried and unsure. He didn't like it, and wanted to shrug their concern off with a "I'm fine" but he couldn't find his voice anymore. Luckily, Lily did it for him.

"Come on, let's get back to the campus. My bed's waiting for me."

Once in the car, bundled up in the back wearing one of Angelo's spare hoodie, and everyone's phones back to their right owners, he realized he hadn't called Scott yet. He lifted his still trembling hand to the side of his face, and waited as the beeps came through. Lily was watching him curiously from the other side of the bench seat.

"Stiles ?" he heard Scott, relief apparent in his tone.

He croaked out a sound, testing his voice. But still no word really came out.

"Did your friend find you ? Are you okay ?"

"Yes." he finally murmured. "Sorry, didn't call earlier."

His best friend sighed in his phone. "Thanks, it's alright. I'm just so glad to hear you're safe now."

"I am, thanks for, you know."

The conversation ended shortly after that, Scott insisting that he called if he had any problem, not caring about the hour. He also made him promise to call back the next day, when he wasn't stuck in a car with other people, unaware of the supernatural.

The drive back to the campus was silent, except for Stiles gnawing on his nails and tapping his foot on the floor, and after a dozen of minutes they were back in the parking lot where they met before.

"I'll walk you back to your room" announced Angelo, leaving no room to argue.

Stiles glanced back to the girls, and apologized in a small voice "Sorry guys, for ruining the evening." Then he was already too far too hear their response.

Angelo side-eyed him, looking like he wanted to say something, his expression sad, but kept his mouth shut. He only talked again when they arrived at the door of Stiles dorm, and asked him if he would be alright.

Stiles nodded.

"Do you want me to stay with you ?"

No. No he didn't want him to stay. It wasn't him he wanted.

"I'll be fine, but thanks."

He wanted his dad. He wanted Scott. He wanted Lydia. He wanted his pack, his real friends, his real family. He wanted someone who was there, someone who could reassure him, someone who could understand, someone who could affirm a demonic japanese spirit wasn't hiding in a grandfather's voice at a restaurant. He wanted to go home, to go back to his own bedroom and lie under his own worn sheets. He wanted to wear a hoodie who belonged to someone who felt safe.

He gave back the sweatshirt, thanked him again, and went to bed directly, without changing or brushing his teeth or washing his face.

He was cold. He didn't sleep much. 

Chapter Text

Stiles hated driving under the rain.

Everything was slippery, loud, wet. You couldn't see well, especially when the wiper blades of your jeep weren't functioning.
Well at least the car was still moving.
Stiles sighed as his fingers drummed impatiently against the steering wheel, knowing he wasn't even close to reaching hid dad's house and hiding from the rain. Around him everything was grey and dark and sad. A car raced past him and sprayed the side of the jeep with muddy water. He hated this weather.

He kept on driving for about one hour, now in the middle of the distance between Beacon Hills and his college, when the last thing he wanted to happen, happened.

The jeep died.

He stayed in his seat for a minute before he decided to go investigate. He knew there wasn't a single chance of him figuring out what was wrong, and even less of fixing it, but it was better than to just sit there and do nothing. So he got out, immediately cursing at the sky when he felt the rain drops hit his body, and reached the hood of his car, where he stood for whole minutes, getting drenched by the second, as he stared at the motor and knew there was nothing he could do.
Then he closed the hood and went back inside, dampening the seat and the floor with his dripping clothes.
And now what ?
Unless he wanted to wait for who-knows how many hours this downpour would last and risk freezing in the cab, he had no choice than to bother someone and ask them to come pick him up. With this weather and the two hours that separated him from Beacon Hills, he felt bad for whoever would answer their phone first with a twinge of guilt and self-deprecation. What's the point of going to college far from everyone to prove to yourself you could live in independence when you can't even drive home without needing help ?

"Hello ?"

He tried Scott first, aware that his dad was working at this time of the day, but his friend didn't even pick up. He waited for the fourth ring before hanging up.
Then he clicked on Lydia's contact, but couldn't bring himself to call her. Things were pretty awkward when he left, and who knew if she even lived in Beacon Hills anymore ?
He considered his short list of contacts, consisting of a couple of students at his college, his dad, Scott, Lydia, Melissa and Malia. After losing or breaking his phone multiple times through high-school, he stopped bothering to update his contact lists at every new smartphone, and just kept the numbers he could remember by heart, or added afterwards, hence the college kids.

He couldn't call Melissa. He would never forgive himself for making her waste her time like that. He guessed she was still as busy and overworking as before, and couldn't afford to drive four hours in the middle of the day.
Malia was just- no. He didn't even know if she had her license. Anyway, he didn't think he could even look her in the eyes.
That left his dad, or a tow, but he didn't have money for that at the moment.

"Hey kid" he heard through the phone, the rain still beating on the car's roof over his head. "What'you calling for ? Are you on your way home ?"

"Hey dad, yeah I am but uh- actually the jeep broke down and I'm kinda stuck in the middle of nowhere and it's raining like hell and I need someone to come pick me up because it doesn't seem like it's getting any better and I really don't want to be here when the storm hits-"

"Okay okay" the sheriff laughed lightly at his son's rambling. "I can't leave the station right now, but tell me where you are and I'll have my new deputy on his way."

"New deputy ? I haven't heard of him ? Do I know him ? Dad if there's a storm coming I don't think sending me a stranger is the best idea."

"Trust me son." his dad calmed. "Everything will be fine."

❈

Everything was not fine.

It's been one hour and a half, and the rain still hasn't stopped.

Worse, a lightning just hit.

"One, two, thr-" Stiles counted breathlessly before brutal thunder interrupted his anxious whispers. It struck less than one kilometer away then.

He trembled in his seat, not only from the cold but from genuine fear. If the lightning was just one kilometer away, and dark clouds were menacing above his car, it meant it could hit here next, didn't it ?

He eyed the forest he was parked next to anxiously.

Tall objects were more likely to be struck, and those pines definitively were high enough to be a good target.

And he was right under them.

He considered getting out of the jeep and wait outside where there was nothing over his head, admittedly the clouds spewing the rain. His eyes darted outside, where he couldn't even see the road clearly from how much water was falling on it, and promptly dropped the idea.

Another flash of light filled the air, and the booming crack resonated in the valley before he could even start his countdown. He whimpered in his seat, curling into himself as he felt his heart accelerating.
The wind seemed to have picked up in intensity, and the rain drops were hitting against the jeep faster and more strongly. He could feel the cold seeping in, freezing his wet clothes against his skin and raising goosebumps on it with every breath of icy air and every whisper of the humid breeze penetrating the cabin.

He concentrated on inhaling -one, two, three, four, five, six, holding -one, two, three, four, and exhaling -one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, steadily and deeply, to give himself the illusion of control when there wasn't.

When he was stuck because his car died and he couldn't fix it.

When he was stuck inside his jeep that'd never felt this suffocating and tiny, and inside soaking clothes, sticky and heavy, and too much-

And when he was stuck under a storm, a fucking thunderstorm, and it was right here, and loud, and violent, and menacing-

And there was nothing he could do.

He could feel his anxiety spiking up and he wanted nothing more than to get out of these clothes and get his stupid hair out of his face, and to stand up, stretch his legs, get out of this stupid car and out of this stupid storm and out of everything and go back to his dorm room and hide under the covers- No, no, too smothering, just, just somewhere where he had a choice and-
He clawed at his shirt with a cry, and sobbed as he curled forward, feeling helpless and frustrated and- and there was nothing he could do-

And there was a storm above his head, and wind threatening to smash his windows and rain that would clash against his roof until it broke-

Helpless, useless, defenseless, weak.

Was he even breathing ? His belly was too full with knots and restless energy and his chest was just- Just numb.

He gasped for air, unfolding his clenched body as he reached out with his mouth and his trembling hands for something to appease the hole under his ribs but there was nothing.

He wanted to cry from how angry he was at himself because he didn't know what to do, because he could only wait until someone got there and-

Tears welled up in his eyes, falling over his lashes with a blink and reaching his lips that were stuck in a sob and he was crushed with the sense of failure and this is it, this is where it ends-

And somehow these two drops of salty water weren't enough either and he couldn't, but he wanted to cry more but he couldn't.

He slammed his fist on his thigh.

Outside the rain was still pouring and random flashes of light illuminating the grey landscape and two steady bulbs of white.

A car, a car was coming towards him.

He sobbed with relief when he recognized the familiar squad car bearing the "Beacon County Police" motif. With both his hands holding the steering wheel tightly to anchor and steady himself, his head hanging between his tense shoulders as he struggled to breathe, he prepared himself to face the new deputy getting out of the cruiser and walking to the jeep.

He forced himself to look up when the guy reached his door and lightly knocked against the glass. He was still having trouble keeping his panic down, but he managed to fold his fingers around the handle and push the door, allowing the deputy to open it further and peek inside the cabin.

The poor man was already soaked.

"Stiles ?" he asked, his voice drowned by the pounding of the rain, when the kid only trembled, not succeeding at raising his gaze above the badge pinned to the officer's uniform.

"Yeah." he rasped out, reaching out to grab his backpack with his essentials from the passenger seat and his phone lying somewhere, before a hand landed on his shoulder and brought his attention back to the other man and- Oh.

Lowering himself to look into Stiles' eyes, Derek Hale was standing beside his jeep, his left hand holding onto the roof of the car, the right one a comforting weight on the younger man's body, his face sporting a look of concern and something almost soft and fond.

Still not able to find words, Stiles, his mouth gaping and his face a mess of rain and tears and fear, only stared at him and let himself be moved when the werewolf pried him out of his seat and gently pushed the gasping teen towards the cruiser. Acting on instinct that came from years as the sheriff's kid, he opened the door and shut it after he got seated in the passenger's side and stared wide eyed at Derek while the man retrieved Stiles's bags from the jeep before taking the keys and locking it behind him.
Stiles searched around his body for an anchor point to hold with his shaking and unsettled hands, his legs jerking nervously, his gaze unfocused.

A second later, the trunk opened long enough for the deputy to throw the bags inside it, before he got behind the wheel and stared at the almost hyperventilating kid beside him for a moment, and decided to start up the car and leave.
They drove for a few minutes like that.

"Hey," Derek broke the silence, his eyes momentarily leaving the road to peek at Stiles. "You alright ?"

Stiles didn't answer for a moment, and then : "You're a deputy."

The werewolf snorted, noting it made the human relax fractionally. "Nice deduction skills you got there." He saw from the corner of his vision Stiles throwing him a look. "I've been for about a month now" he clarified.

"I bet that was your first mission that didn't involve paper work."

"Can't say you're wrong" he admitted, taking a sharp turn behind some trees. "Want to tell me what happened out there ?"

Still tense, the teen only muttered that his car broke down, not mentioning why he was at the verge of a full blown panic attack. Derek didn't want to push despite his curiosity and mostly concern, so he asked him about college and his plans for Christmas, keeping the conversation light and easy, observing Stiles slowly letting go of his grip on his loose jeans and relaxing back in the seat. His hair was still glued to his forehead, creating messy bangs that fell half over his eyes. Oddly, Derek thought it looked really cute.

❈

When they were about to reach Beacon Hills, a lightning surprised them by striking in a mostly calm sky, the booming thunder coming almost instantly with it.
Stiles jumped in his seat with a gasp, suddenly waking up from his tired state. Derek would have laughed if he didn't smell the fear spiking up in his scent and his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. With a reflex he didn't quite know from where it came, he immediately put a hand on the kid's knee, holding it still.

"It's alright, just a storm" he soothed, tightening momentarily his fingers when the teen didn't calm down right after. "We're almost there."

Stiles didn't say anything, just looked out the window, biting his lip.

But they soon discovered that the weather wasn't getting better, and the rain got even worse than before, and the wind so strong it made the car groan in protest.

It was awfully dangerous to drive in these conditions, even for a werewolf.

Then a bolt hit so close to them that Derek swore he could feel the electricity and smell the burn in the air. The loud cracking that accompanied it resonated inside the car and between the trees and the rain and it came from everywhere.

He felt Stiles tense up with a cry beside him, but it took him a few -too many, too long- seconds to register he hadn't taken a breath since and that he smelt the stench of blood. Derek's hand clenched around the boy's knee.

He turned his head sharply towards the teen, who met his gaze with a terrified expression on his face, a clear ask for help and reassurance.

A small drop of red was trickling from his bottom lip.

Derek swerved to the side and stopped the car when the teen started to cry after another explosion sounded in the sky.

"Stiles ! What's going on ?!" He couldn't hide his concern anymore and let a part of his panic towards the sheriff's son seep in his voice.

Stiles sobbed even harder, and Derek could see him trying to form an answer in between his tears but not managing to let out any other noise than awful, heart-wrenching wails. He could smell the desperate fear in his scent, stinking up the car and making it hard to breathe inside.

The boy's face was a blotched mess of tears, mixing in with the blood gushing out from his lip - and Derek knew how much strength you had to use to bite through your lips, and he knew how much it hurt - so the wolf moved his hand from Stiles's leg to his jaw and gently sucked the pain from the strained muscles. Brown eyes, wide and frightened, met his, and Derek couldn't quite decipher what was going on behind them.

"Stiles" he tried again, not knowing exactly how to calm the boy down.

The human inhaled sharply and forced himself to regain some composure, before his efforts were shattered by a flash of white that filled up the car with light for a fraction of second. And a loud, awful, cracking detonation shook the skies and the trees and the car and the road, so intense it seemed like everything stopped for a moment.

Stiles screeched something that sounded like a garbled version of Derek's name and jerked towards the older man's body, only to be held back by the seat-belt and he shook with fear and his hands grabbed the deputy's shirt and clenched the cold fabric tightly in his fists. The wolf, as calmly as he managed, leaned forward, looped a heavy arm around the kid's shoulder and with his free hand, undid both his seat-belt and Stiles', guiding his limbs out of its grasp.

The teenager pressed his face against Derek's collarbone, so choked by his panic that he didn't seem to remember what boundaries were, and gasped painfully, trying to match his breathing to the chest under him- but then he was lifted over the center console and deposited on the man's lap, his legs curled on the seat, barely fitting next to the door.
Derek's strong arms wrapped around his body, surrounding him with heat and protection and hiding him from the world. If Stiles was aware enough, he would feel like a child, the position reminding him of his parents gently reassuring him after a nightmare, and he would protest and extract himself from the hold, claiming he was too tall now and that it looked ridiculous - but it only made him feel safe and shielded from the danger. Derek could tell he was slowly calming down, and gently encouraged him to keep following his breathing pattern by rubbing his back and murmuring soft praises against his temple.

But at every new thunderbolt, a stinging wave of panic and violent flinch crashed over the kid's body and made him choke on his breath until compassionate whispers and fingers in his hair brought him back to the comforting embrace Derek had on him.

"We have to wait until it calms down a bit to continue driving." informed the deputy after a while, observing forceful rivers of brown water flooding the road, and helping Stiles into a more comfortable position now that his mind was a bit less foggy.

The human was now straddling his lap with his knees folded over the sides of the seat, his hand still pressed against Derek's chest and his back hunched to hide his face in the crook of the man's neck, nosing between the skin and the collar of his shirt, wet gushes of air warming his nape. The werewolf had previously cautiously wiped the blood from his chin with his thumb. He whimpered when he registered the words, pressing closer to the other man's frame- and oh. Derek willed himself to keep his cool and not pay attention to this particular part of his body that appeared very interested in the intimate contact with the younger human.

Stiles is in a very vulnerable state right now, he reminded himself, you can't think like that.

But truth be told, he couldn't pretend this whole situation wasn't affecting him at all. Not only physically - because, let's be honest, Derek had always found the boy extremely attractive, but also mentally. When the sheriff had asked him to go pick up his son from the middle of nowhere, he didn't expect to find him this scared. For all the years he'd known him, he never saw him like that, not even when the Nogitsune amused itself by terrifying the boy and making him believe things that destroyed him.

But it made sense, oddly.

It made sense that this strong, selfless and reckless man became terrified of storms, and lightnings and thunder. After all, a lot of bad, bad things happened in this weather, and a good part of these things were related to the Nogitsune debacle, which, he guessed, was the most haunting experience of Stiles' life.

A new rush of compassion made him tighten his grip on the boy and press his lips in his hair in a silent kiss. 

❈

It wasn't long before the storm went away and light rain resumed. The teenager wasn't crying or hyperventilating anymore, but he didn't let go of his hold on Derek, who didn't either. Although he wanted to keep Stiles on his lap and in his arms forever, he knew they couldn't stay there any longer. The sheriff had already messaged him, asking what was taking so long- Derek had reluctantly replied, not willing to lift his hands from the boy's sides.

Also, it had gotten very cold.

He gently guided Stiles back to his seat, which was an awkward and challenging operation seeing as the boy's legs were cramped and had gotten numb. Derek pulled his pain as discretely as possible while he settled down in the passenger seat.

No words were exchanged as the wolf started up the car and pulled away from the side of the road, but when he moved to take his hand away from the human's side, the latter grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together, resting their intertwined digits on his thigh for the rest of the drive.

Derek knew it meant something.

Chapter Text

It was the end of the pack's first year of college, except for Derek and Stiles who stayed in Beacon Hills and both found jobs they enjoyed.

Stiles hasn't always wanted to not go to college, but in the aftermath of everything that happened in his high-school years, he decided it would be wiser to take a break before moving out of the city and starting a new scholarship in a city he didn't know and where he would be completely alone. Thus, he stayed behind while all of his friends left to discover the world outside of their small town, and took time to recover and mend himself slowly.

It wasn't unknown that the nightmarish events that the pack had to endure in the past years had hit the human harder than the rest of them, and that it left him with some un-diagnosed mental disorders to deal with.

Right after high school graduation, the pack had busied themselves by finding a way to keep monsters and predators out of Beacon Hills, and by the time the college students had to leave for their first semester, everything was under control. The magic binding they put around the territory proved itself efficient, because no supernatural creature appeared ever since.

In the meantime, Derek had busied himself by starting to work in a car garage. The sheriff and Melissa still overworked themselves, but you couldn't do anything about that anyway.

That left Stiles, and while in the beginning he was relieved to have so much free time to sleep and do nothing, he quickly grew restless and anxious. Spending all his days in bed and alone with his thoughts did nothing to improve his mental health, and his condition actually worsened for a while until the sheriff took notice of it and obliged his son to seek out a therapist and find an occupation during the day.

That's when Derek intervened, informing them that he had contact with a couple of therapists in the known, and that the garage he worked in was looking for someone to take care of all the administrative and accounting side of the shop.

Stiles agreed on both.

During his shifts, when the human had nothing left to do in his small office, he would join the mechanics in the garage and help them where he could, by passing them tools or assisting them in easy tasks. Sometimes they taught him things about cars and showed him how to fix them. But most of the time, he would spend time at Derek's side, either by helping him, talking with him as he worked, or just sitting in silence and reassuring himself with the werewolf's presence.

Derek was the one who taught him the most, and Stiles loved when the man pressed close to his body to show a part of a motor, or put his hands around him to guide him, and when he took his frail hands in his as he gently wiped the dark grease from his fingers.

Stiles always blushed when Derek touched him so, so softly, embarrassed that one of the other workers would see them being this intimate.

Stiles brought lunch for the both of them, and they would eat together in the back room, or sit on the empty sidewalk when the day was warm enough.

He didn't exactly know when it started, but after a few weeks they were having dinner together every other day, and sometimes even John and Melissa joined them.

And then Stiles took on one more day of work by week, because his health improved enough.

And then they started spending all their evenings together, and more often than not, Stiles would just spend the night at the loft instead of going home.

The next month, Derek helped him pack his stuff and officially move in with him.

Maybe it even begun before living together, but they found themselves touching each other more, and sharing the same bed during the night, and kissing more and making love to each other.

It was so natural that it seemed like they didn't notice the change.

And except the sheriff, Melissa, and maybe some of their coworkers, nobody knew about their relationship. Not even the pack, who each came back during their breaks and sometimes during the weekend. Maybe they suspected something, maybe not.

The end of the pack's first year of college came quickly, and they were already planning their summer break together.

"There's this huge festival next to San Fran', I've always wanted to go !"

"And we could sleep on place and do the whole week ! I know there's a camping place specifically for the festival right next to it."

"Danny's mom can get us tickets."

"The Killers will be there !"

Stiles smiled faintly at his overjoyed friends from his side of the computer screen, their pixelated faces beaming at their webcams. He was sitting in Derek's- in their loft, his laptop on his lap, while the werewolf was out on a run.

"Stiles, you love the Killers !"

"I sure do, Scotty. Always been my favorite band."

"We have to go !"

As uneasiness started to crawl in his stomach, he heard the heavy door of the loft slide open, and soon enough a sweaty Derek approached him from behind. The man put his hand on the small of his back where the others couldn't see, and looked at the screen from above Stiles' shoulder.

"Hey guys, how are you doing ?"

The human let himself slightly relax back in his touch, and smiled discreetly as his friends greeted his boyfriend with enthusiastic answers. They were quick to tell him about their plan, losing themselves in their eagerness, allowing Stiles to turn to Derek and scrunch up his nose at him. "You smell."

The older man huffed before retorting "It's what usually happens when you sweat, genius." and pinched the side of his waist, causing him to yelp and jostle the laptop on his knees.
He threw a glare at his partner and turned back to the screen, noting the others didn't even catch their interaction.

"We'll have to talk more about it later, but for now everyone's down for it. Derek, do you want to come too ?" Scott asked.

"I'll think about it." The man answered, which wasn't an answer at all, but oh well, it was Derek.

After they said their goodbyes, Stiles slowly closed his laptop, putting in on the ground beside him, and sighed, his eyes closed.

"You don't want to go" the older man guessed in a low voice, sliding his hands around Stiles' middle and letting the human rest his weight against him.

"It's not that. I want to go, I really do. I mean, music festivals are awesome, The Killers, man. The Killers. And camping with the pack sounds like so much fun but... I'm afraid I won't be able to handle it."

"Lots of people, commotion, tumult..."

"Yeah, and constant loud noises . Not only from the people, but the music and all. Probably fireworks at some point, too... Yeah I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

"You still have more than a month to decide baby. You'll see how you feel about it in a few weeks."

Stiles hummed thoughtfully, leaning back further in Derek's arm.

"Maybe you could talk about it at your next session, see what the doc has to say about it, hmm ? But if you don't feel up to going with them, don't force yourself, okay ? You can say no."

"I know, wolf. Now go take a shower before you cuddle me."

❈

A month passed quickly, and before they knew it, the first college students were coming back to Beacon Hills. While the pack knew Stiles and Derek now lived together, they didn't necessarily get that there was something more between them. Hell, during a Skype call Scott even referred to Stiles' crush on Lydia like it was still actual.
While he was happy to see his friends again, and for longer than a weekend, Stiles knew that the calm and peaceful days he would spend curled up with Derek on their bed were over. One part of him was afraid of the pack coming back, because they always were a handful of energy and loudness. And didn't get boundaries. And were persistent. And weren't aware of the extent of Stiles' issues.

He doubted they would even believe he suffered from PTSD.

They knew he wasn't feeling well enough to go to college, and they knew he started seeing a therapist, but honestly, Stiles knew a lot of them just didn't get it.

They won't understand, a voice said to him. How could you be so broken when they are not ?

And as the days passed, the knot of uneasiness tightened more and more in his stomach.

He still didn't know if he wanted to go the festival.

Well, he knew he wanted to go, he knew he should want to go. It was the occasion to prove he was okay, right ? He was a functioning adult, and he could go to a music event with his friends like every other normal person his age. He could just pretend for few days, right ?
But as much as he tried to convince himself he wanted to go, he couldn't stop feeling terrified at the thought of it.

"Come on Derek, I give you until tomorrow 12 am sharp to give me an answer. We really have to buy tickets before they aren't anymore."

Derek threw a side glance at his boyfriend, standing far from him, and saw the anxiety in his face.

"Yeah, sure. I'll tell you tomorrow."

❈

Later that night, when the pack went home and Derek and Stiles were alone in their bed, the werewolf laced their fingers together and made sure to catch his boyfriend attention before he said quietly "Tell me you want to go and I'll come with you, tell me you don't and I'll stay with you."

A shy smile lifted up the corner of Stiles' mouth, but it was drowned in the smell of uncertainty and fear that hadn't left him since the pack came over that day.

"If we go, we'll have a fun week with the pack, you will see your favorite band live, and I'll stay with you all the time to keep you safe. If we stay here, we'll have a nice, entire week with nothing planned that we could spend together, alone and unbothered..."

Stiles thought about it, but he already felt so tired and worn out.

After a moment, he pushed his body closer to Derek's and whispered in his neck "I don't want to go."

❈

The pack didn't exactly take the news well. Scott was indignant that Stiles didn't want to spend this time with them after they spent a whole year apart, and preferred Derek's company instead. And The Killers Stiles ! What has gotten into you ? Why don't you want to come ?!

Stiles wanted to cower at his angry voice and hide behind Derek, clutching his hand tightly in his, but he knew it would do nothing to appease the situation.

"Scott, enough." Derek ordered when he sensed Stiles' panic rising, even though he wasn't the alpha anymore. "If he doesn't want to go, then he doesn't have to go. It's as simple as that. It doesn't mean he doesn't want to spend time with you. Him not coming with you at a music festival won't break your friendship, will it ?"

He knew Scott wanted to answer, but the true alpha seemed to find staying silent wiser.
Instead, he grumbled something unintelligible even to weres' ears and left it at that.

The rest of the pack weren't happy, but they knew that they had to respect the human's choice.

❈

It was a few weeks later, and Stiles had breathed easier since it was confirmed he wouldn't go. He knew he made the best choice in the end.
And it was the best choice, because the pack left a few hours ago to head to San Francisco, so Derek took the opportunity to initiate something they couldn't do while the others were around.

He jumped on him as soon as they got home from work, carried the human inside while ravaging his neck and grinding his bones from how tight he was holding him.
Stiles moaned when they stumbled into the flat and the werewolf was too hurried to walk to their bedroom, instead throwing him on the couch and immediately covering his lean body with his wider frame.
They made out for a while, their hands wandering all over the other's clothed body. The werewolf's face was pressed against his favorite part of Stiles, his long, thin neck, where the skin bruised so easily and his smell was so intense. The human barely register the filthy, filthy, words his boyfriend was growling into his skin, too busy trying to press his hips against Derek's.
He was starting to get desperate, extremely worked up by the torment of his throat and the feeling of the muscles under his exploring hands. He panted, not ashamed to admit he was begging for release.
After long, tortuous minutes, Derek finally stopped his teasing and begun to grind their hips together, the rough drag of denim between them adding to the sensation.

Stiles was dying.

"Yeah, just like that baby..." He heard his partner whisper near his ear, and it encouraged him to hump against the body over him harder, and he felt his orgasm building. He only registered after a while that he had been breathlessly repeating combinations of "so good" and "please, please, please" this whole time. He didn't care.

"Getting close" he gritted out.

"Yeah, yeah baby..." the wolf breathed before he stilled-

"Der-"

"The pack's here."

Hardly understanding the words, the only thing that mattered to Stiles was the fact that Derek had stopped moving and he was so close-

"No no no no, don't stop- come back-"

The older man turned his attention back to the moaning mess under him, a glint crossing his darkening eyes. "We've still got a minute before they get here, and you're gonna come just like that. Keep rubbing my thigh baby, make yourself feel good...Yeah..."

Stiles was flushed hard, his eyes closed, his hips stuttering as his abs were clenched so tight and -god- his entire body was trembling-

"Der" he whimpered helplessly, and the werewolf knew what that sound meant.

"Yeah ? Yeah baby, you're gonna come.... Come on, come for me.... Come. Right. Now." He growled, putting weight in each of his words, and that's when he smelt the pleasure coursing through Stiles' convulsing body and the quiet but long sigh he let out, his frown disappearing with relief and bliss.

He kissed him as aftershocks ripped through him, his breathing unstable and heavy. One of his hands gently caressed the human's side up and down, helping him through the blow of his orgasm while he whispered praises and love in his ear.
When Stiles started coming around, the pack was reaching up their floor with the elevator. Derek shook him softly to bring him back quicker, already starting to arrange his limbs so he could carry him more easily.

"They'll know." He informed him, but there was nothing they could do about it now. The smell of sex was everywhere.

"Okay..." Stiles slurred. "I'm tired..."

"I know baby" he chuckled fondly. "You always fall asleep right after sex."

The human only nodded absently and let himself be carried to their bed.

Leaving Derek to deal with the pack alone.

What were they doing here anyway ?

❈

When Stiles woke up, it was to bliss. His body felt more relaxed than it had in weeks, and his sleep had been so profound.
With a small jolt to his heartbeat, he remember what put him in this state. Heat flooded his cheeks as he recalled coming like a teenage virgin by dry humping his boyfriend's thigh and how he begged-

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck fuck.

The pack.

The pack had been coming.

Oh my god, did they hear ? They totally know, they, shit-

Mortified, he wanted to cry, the humiliation too strong to handle. What could they be thinking right now ? First he didn't want to come camping with them, and now they find him doing that-
His eyes burned almost as much as his cheeks as he curled up on his side, noticing just then that his pants and underwear were missing, and his private parts were clean.

Then he cried.

Almost instantly, the door opened and Derek was stepping in, swooping the boy in his arms and holding him to his chest. "Hey, what's wrong Stiles ? Why are you crying ?"

Taking a moment to compose himself, Stiles explained in a small voice how humiliated and pathetic he felt. Derek shushed him.

"They don't care baby, I don't think they even heard us while they were coming up. I didn't train them very well you know, they never pay attention at anything else than themselves." The human smiled slightly at the attempt at humor.

"And you're not pathetic. Do you know how beautiful you looked right there, hmm ?"

He burrowed his face in Stiles' shoulder, tickling him with his fingers as he kept reminding him of how fucking irresistible and wrecked he looked and how much he loves him.

When he had calmed down, Stiles suddenly realized that the pack was not, in fact, supposed to even be here. They were supposed to go to San Francisco and not come back for the entire week.

Derek calmly explained that their friends decided to give up on the festival, because they wanted to spend time with the entire pack instead.

Stiles didn't believe him, and he still felt bad that they abandoned their plan because of him-

His boyfriend pushed him inside the shower, brought him clothes and told him to come downstairs when he was ready.

Stiles did, shyly shuffling down the spiral staircase when he saw everyone stop their discussion to stare at him. Like a deer caught in headlights, he froze and wanted nothing more than to escape.

Be brave, for once.

"Did you- Did you guys really stay here for me ?" His voice was trembling, so unsure and quiet, it sounded like he was about to cry again.

Erica cooed at him, standing up and walking to him with her arms spread wide. "Of course Batman ! Lydia made us realize why you didn't want to come, so we wanted to surprise you and spend the week here with you and Derek instead, and I also need some explanation about that, baby-"

Derek growled at that, Lydia interrupted.

"It's not fair that we get to go to the festival when you can't."

Stiles looked at them with a unreadable expression, before he walked into Erica's awaiting arms and let himself be enveloped by the rest of the pack joining them.

Chapter Text

"You like that huh ?" he growled into Stiles' ear as he tightened his hold on the boy's wrists, pressing them in the mattress over his head. "You like it when I throw you around ?"

Stiles panted, staring dazedly into the eyes above him, and nodded desperately. He couldn't deny it, being manhandled and held down was doing it for him. The man over him chuckled darkly, and rolled his hips down, making Stiles' body fill with heat as his pulse throbbed under his skin.

He met Charles at a friend's party in college, and the Californian boy was a little bit too drunk to really think about his decisions when he followed the older guy into his dorm room. But after all, it didn't really matter as he didn't regret that choice one bit.

Charles was a Junior, when Stiles was a Freshman, and had a lot more experience in bed than the younger kid. However, he didn't seem to mind the awkwardness, and even appeared to enjoy showing the boy all the wonders of great sex. They were a match, Stiles being submissive enough to please Charles' need to have control and to dominate. They loved it rough, hard and fast. Sometimes the older man liked to slap him around for a moment and leave dark pink bruises on his skin before bending him over the couch and holding him down as he pounded into him. Sometimes he wanted to have Stiles' spread under him, needy and pliant, as he teased him for the entire evening, enjoying his whimper and the twitches in his desperate body. Stiles absolutely loved every outcome.

That day was one of the second type day.

Tough it started more rough than usually, with Stiles' texting him a "u free right now ?" -which he was, and him coming over to be pushed against the door with a hand around his throat as the Junior devoured his mouth, his other fingers already fumbling with his belt before he pushed Stiles down on his knees and forcefully made him choke on his cock, not even exchanging a "hi" before he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to his bed.

Because as much as they fitted together in the sex department, they didn't enjoy each other's company outside of it. Just enough to still be in contact after three months into their arrangement, but they never met outside of those heated encounters and never really talked during their time together. Except dirty talk, of course, which they did a lot.

Charles was aware enough of the dangers of their kind of sex to still be careful when he handled the boy, not wanting to hurt him, and took care of him afterwards before sending him away. He preferred to not have the boy fall into subdrop on him.

As it was, Stiles' delicate skin was already flushed and his frame trembling as Charles hovered above him, one hand immobilizing the kid's wrists and the other caressing his soft chest, a knee pressed up against his crotch. He liked the contrast between the freshman's pale, naked skin, so fragile under his fingertips, and his own body which was still dressed and way stronger.

He felt the boy beginning to grind against his leg and tutted with amusement. "Did I allow you to do that ?"

Stiles' hips stuttered before halting in his movement, vibrating with need, his bruised lips stammering around a breathy apology. Charles used the hand not currently holding his wrists to push his hips down in the mattress and ordered him to not move, before he begun trailing his fingers in a lose circle around the kid's crotch, not daring to touch yet.

The younger man tensed up underneath him, his eyes slipping shut, probably to concentrate harder on staying still. Charles smirked at the sight, enjoying how hard he tried to obey him, and was excited to think about what he would do if the pale boy did a mistake. He liked to play with a desperate sub, but wasn't cruel nevertheless.
He kept on teasing him with light touches for a few more minutes, alternating between his sensitive nipples and his burning groin area. When he decided he had worked him up enough, he slipped his fingers around the boy's penis, who reacted immediately by arching his back and thrusting upwards with a keen groan escaping his mouth.

But he wasn't the only one with sharp reactions. Charles, upon seeing this, had in a matter of seconds a piece of rope tied around the younger man's wrists, and was working on wrapping his ankles together with another one before the kid had even registered the change, too single-minded to think about anything else than his need to be stimulated.

Once he was done with his little bindings, he returned to his previous position and taunted the boy with a deep voice. "Told you not to move... I guess I just have to restrain you more, maybe you'll do better with a little help."

Stiles stared up at him with cloudy eyes, whimpering and shaking, before his mind cleared up enough to get a better grasp on the situation. "Wha- What are you doing ?"

He tried to sit up, eyes widening when he fully took in the ropes around his limbs, but Charles pushed him down again, reminding him not to move and resumed his light hand-job, keeping one hand on the boy's hips to hold him down.

But Stiles jerked again, trying to wiggle out of his grasp and protested indignantly "Dude what the hell ?! What are you doing ?"

Charles was not having any of that, and pushed the boy more forcefully against the mattress, keeping that hand on the boy's chest, threateningly just under his throat. "You're gonna stay there like a good boy, and not move until I tell you to-"

"No what the fuck ! Untie me Charles ! I've never agreed to that !" the kid shouted, his voice rising in higher pitched tones, which annoyed the older man as much as his attempts at pushing him away.

"Stop that" he ordered darkly, lowering himself more heavily on the struggling body, loving how much bigger it was, and how weak the freshman's efforts were against him. "You were doing so great until now. Just calm down Stiles, and we'll start again."

He watched with a pleased expression as the boy was trying to do just that, schooling his face into a more relaxed one, deeply breathing with his eyes closed, his body tense between the two ropes.

Charles knew it was new for him, having never yet introduced the boy to bondage, but he knew he'd love it just as much as everything else he showed him. He'd never really talked beforehand with Stiles about what he wanted to try on him, but always started lightly during a scene and watched the boy's pupils dilate with arousal. This was the first time Stiles didn't accept a new element in their play immediately, but he knew he'd come around in a few minutes.

He knew he would love it once the surprise wore off.

Until then he stroked gently his taunt body that wouldn't relax and encouraged him as the boy breathed through his nose, his eyes screwed shut with the effort of holding himself still.

"That's it, good boy. Doesn't that feel good, being sexy and helpless under me as I touch you all over ?"

He thought Stiles had regained his submissive head-space when he forced himself to exhale and let the tension out of his body, his pretty mouth open and his eyes still closed, exposing his dark lashes against the white of his cheekbones, but then he scrunched up his face like he was in pain and lashed out against Charles, starting to scream at him to untie him and wrestled under him, the solid knots keeping his limbs together, which Charles was thankful for as it kept the boy from hitting him too hard.

"You need to calm down !" He yelled at the kid, trying to restrain him on the bed. "Stop doing that !" He grunted after Stiles managed to hit him with his knees.

The younger man was still screaming, but Charles wasn't sure he was coherent anymore. He wasn't only shouting at him to untie him, but sometimes seemed to talk about helping someone else, doing something to someone else- to let her go.

Charles never really cared to get to know the kid before he decided to fuck him on a regular basis, but now he wished he did because that guy was insane, there was something that just wasn't right-

"Let me go !"

The trashing had gotten worse, more desperate and violent. Charles jumped off the bed, heart beating fast as he watched the teen crying and shouting, rolling around and hitting invisible attackers with his bound feet and hands.
The older man had never been more thankful that he knew how to tie a good knot, because he sure was glad the kid hadn't gotten free from the restraints. Gosh, what would he have done to Charles in this state...

It was an absolute terrifying spectacle. The kid was mad and it was just wrong- He was screaming nonsense like there was someone else in the room, like he thought Charles was someone else. His face was red and he didn't even seem to have time to breathe before he was howling in pure terror again, rolling on the bed with angry tears staining the sheets and kicking so hard he could snap his back from the strength of his hits- that never reached their target seeing as there was nothing here.

It's all in his head.

Charles was pressed up against the wall, face as white as a sheet, unable to rip his gaze from the sight. He considered in the back of his mind his options : he couldn't just leave because then an insane human would be left alone in his bedroom with all of his possessions, and he didn't want to lose any of them- he was hesitating on calling for help, anyway someone probably already heard the commotion and did call the police or whatever-

"Please ! Please don't touch her !"

Cold sweat dripped down the side of Charles' face. He couldn't not admit he'd never more scared in his life. He'd been sleeping with this kid for months, and he turned out to be fucking crazy and why wasn't he locked up somewhere already ?

In the end the Junior was too petrified to even move, and waited for one hour or two until the teen wore himself out and seemed ready to pass out from either exhaustion or lack of oxygen from the constant screaming and hyperventilating. Finally Stiles collapsed on his side, spasms overcoming him like he was having a seizure, and cried because he had no voice left. Like he had given up.

Charles judged it safe enough to approach him, with his goal in mind to get this maniac far away from him as soon as possible, and quickly ripped the ropes from his twitching limbs, keeping his body the furthest he could. He immediately took a step back, waiting for what the boy would do, but he only laid there, not moving at all, completely defeated and destroyed.

Charles eyed the angry red marks on the boy's skin from where the rope had broken his skin, and the mess of snot, drool, tears and sweat on his face, gluing his wet hair to his forehead. Ugly, broken sobs were ripping through his chest that was struggling to fill with air and shook through all of his skinny body. He'd never seen anybody in this state, but he found out he didn't care.

That kid was sick, and dangerous.

He had to get him out of his room.

Cautiously, he stalked closer to the bed, and Stiles must have felt his body hovering over his crumpled from, because he whimpered, a rough, animal-like noise, and curled up around his mangled wrists in a protective reflex.

Charles knew he should feel pity, but he was angry, hurt and betrayed because he'd been wrong and fooled and in danger- because that deranged, hallucinating kid, had been intimate with him for months and he'd been in his room alone and-

"Please don't" he suddenly heard the younger man whisper in an extremely quiet voice, like he had no energy left, like there was no fight left in him.

But Charles didn't know what he was begging about, and he was angry at him and he didn't want him to stay.

So he grabbed him by the arm, forced his shirt on him and pushed his legs in his pants, not even bothering with underwear or buttoning it up, before he was dragging him out of bed and towards the door in a similar manner than a few hours before, when he didn't know, and Charles felt sick. The kid was stumbling behind him, predictably not able to get his legs under him, so he just fell and was yanked painfully by his sore arm, his limp body trailing like a rag, or a dead corpse, behind Charles' steps.

He pulled Stiles up when they reached the door, and the boy was pale and sick-looking and wrecked, but Charles only saw red, ignoring his sobs and pained body, and told him to never talk to him again and delete his number, or he would put Stiles in a mental ward where he belonged.

Then he pushed the teen out of the door, watching him collapse on the floor because he had no strength left, whimpering as his chin hit the carpet painfully. He slammed the door closed, hoping the kid would just leave soon before someone else saw him there.

Charles inhaled, and decided he would make himself some tea to calm down. When he had a steaming cup in his hands, he sat at the chair by the window and watched the icy winter rain fall on the campus.

He thought briefly about a terrified eighteen year old alone and vulnerable, hissing as the water hit his injured wrists, limping back to his dorm room at the other side of the park. But he chased that thought away, trying to convince himself he made the good decision.

Then he noticed Stiles' sneakers by the couch, so he took all the rest of the boy's belongings -his underwear, socks, and a red hoodie discarded on the floor- and went to the door.

He opened it carefully, relieved to see the kid had left for good, and walked out of the house, throwing the stuff in front of it, watching the rain fall on it for a few seconds, before he turned around and closed the front door.

Chapter Text

"Bye guys !" He heard Kira say from where he was lying on the couch, eyes lazily sliding on the plain grey ceiling, unfocused. He mumbled a goodbye in return, and closed his eyes, fatigue overcoming him.

"See you soon !" added Scott's voice, followed by a "Later bro" directed at the tired teen, who jerked up at his words, eyes open wide.

"You're going now ?!"

Scott replied with a sheepish sorry and gestured to his girlfriend, his cheeks reddening slightly. Then the couple got outside, leaving Stiles alone with Derek in the latter's loft.

It was an usual Saturday for the pack, who gathered up in the oldest werewolf's apartment every week to spend some time together. Today they watched a movie that ended a few hours ago, and have been chatting since. Derek went in the kitchen at some point, to cook a real meal beside pretzels and chips, while the rest of the pack slowly trickled out as the hours went by.

As every Saturday, Stiles had driven Scott over, as Melissa didn't want him to ride his bike in the middle of the night as they usually went home later than this day, werewolf or not. Usually they also got home together, Scott driving when Derek let the human have some beer, lightweight as he was.

"Der ?" he called out, his face angled towards the kitchen area, where he could hear the man in question fill a pot with water.

"Yes, Stiles ?" the werewolf answered back patiently, in that familiar tone he'd adopted ever since he stopped considering Stiles as an annoying spazz. Stiles kind of loved it, because he only ever used that deep, calm voice with him, and nobody else.

It made him feel special in a sort of way.

"Everyone's left, want me to go ?"

"No, stay. I'm making pasta."

Stiles smiled briefly, his gaze lazily sliding down the tall windows he face facing, observing the sky filling with deep clouds above the town. He sighed, adjusting his position on the couch and relaxed back against the plushy leather. He couldn't help but feel immensely pleased at the thought of Derek cooking for him without prompting, as if sharing an evening just the two of them was an established routine.

Well, maybe it was. It wasn't the first time it happened.

And he knew for sure the rest of the pack never got that honor.

Stiles was beginning to doze off when he heard the clang of plates being deposited on the large wooden table Derek had acquired when the pack started spending more time at the loft. He yawned and stretched like a cat, a shiver running through his body, before getting up and shuffling to the table where two steaming plates of spaghetti were waiting. Warmth swelled up in his belly when he noticed the plate in his usual place was covered in a obscene larger amount of tomato sauce than the other, and the jar filled with grated parmesan cheese was conveniently placed next to it. Derek really knew how he loved his food.

He sat with a giddy expression, waiting for Derek to return from the kitchen with a bowl of salad, and smiled up at him, suddenly feeling shy. "It looks great, thank you."

Derek nodded at him, sitting down, with a pleased face.

It was well after ten when Stiles realized he should probably go home at some point. The sun had already set while they did the dishes together, which took them an overly long time, seeing as Stiles kept stopping his washing to tell an anecdote, and Derek watched him fondly, the towel forgotten between his hand and an already dried plate. Rain had started falling lightly when they finally finished, and went back on the couch to watch an episode of the show Stiles was currently binging. He dared to lift his legs over Derek's thighs after ten minutes, and blushed furiously when the werewolf didn't object, and even put his own hand on Stiles' knee without looking away from the screen.

Now the windows only revealed dots of lights lost in darkness, and the patter of rain against the glass brought Stiles back to reality. He checked the time on his phone, and told Derek he should go before it got really too late.

He wasn't sure if Derek's disappointed expression was just wishful thinking or not.

"You're sure ? It's already quite dark" he said, glancing towards the bay. "You could stay for the night...If you want."

Stiles, Stiles' brain just completely crashed at those words, and he quickly swung his legs from Derek's lap to get up, brushing away imaginary crumbs from his shirt. "Uh, thanks, but my dad's probably waiting for me."

Despite the part of his brain wanting nothing more than to accept the offer in the prospect of the continuation of an evening that felt like a date, he knew it was unrealistic to think so, and he didn't want to seem to clingy or enthusiastic by saying yes. The meal sitting face to face followed by the semi-cuddling already felt like enough, he didn't want to risk his chances anymore than that.

Derek slowly got up as well, and helped him gather his stuff from around the place- his hoodie there, his wallet here, and walked him to the door.

"I had a really nice time" Stiles admitted after all, not wanting to appear rude by getting out too quickly. "Thanks for the cooking and the...The time."

As the human inwardly cringed at his lack of elocution, Derek smiled warmly at him, unconsciously taking a step closer. "I did as well, you know I like having you over, Stiles."

Was that...? No, no, Stiles, be serious. He knew he was already overthinking things.

"Be careful on the road" Derek added as Stiles neck went red. "Call me if anything."

The younger man nodded gratefully, and left with a small "Yeah, bye Der", hurrying to the elevator. During the quick trip to his car, he couldn't stop thinking about the evening, and analyzing every part of it in light speed.

It was only when he put the ignition keys in the Jeep that he abruptly realized he would have to drive alone.

In the dark.

It was no secret that bad things always happened in Beacon Hills during the night, and Stiles had been aware of many of them since he was a kid, who listened to his father telling his wife about the current cases at the kitchen table, sneaking out of his bed when he was supposed to be sleeping. And during this last year, well, he unfortunately became a witness to most of these events.

He turned the key in a jerky motion, trying to convince himself nothing would happen to him, that they hadn't encountered any problem in the last weeks.

But, hadn't they felt too calm ? Wasn't that strange ?

Without letting himself time to hesitate, he pulled out of the parking spot, the two sizzling headlights of the jeep doing nothing to lighten up his spirits.

The rain was beginning to fall harder against the roof and blurred his vision even more, worsening his insecurities. He was driving slowly, to make sure he was seeing were he was going, but he was distantly aware that with the sound of the rain surrounding his car, he wouldn't hear any suspicious sounds.

"Come on, get a grip." he hissed to himself, adjusting his handle on the steering wheel, his fingers clenched too tight.

He could barely see in front of him, being in a relatively unlit part of the town and the car's light was ridiculously weak. A glance at the rear-view mirror told him that next to and behind him was total darkness.

Just great.

It wasn't driving in the dark that made him anxious, because he had done that an uncountable amount of times already. But usually, there was someone else in that car with him, and most often it was Scott, his Alpha werewolf best friend.

No, the problem was that he was alone.

And defenseless.

If someone or something wanted to cause trouble, he was not only the perfect prey -because Stiles was honest enough to admit he couldn't do much in self-defense, he didn't have any weapon or strengths, and would probably freeze in fear instead of acting like his dad had prepared him to since he was old enough to walk. He was the ideal target when it came to attacking the pack, because the others were mostly useless without his plans, and he was so easily taken down. But it was also the perfect time to strike.

In the night, where his poor human vision couldn't detect any danger, and under the rain as he wasn't able to hear anything else beside the repetitive patter, the jeep's ragged rumbling and his own high-pitched breath.

Feeling his thoughts distracting him from the road, he tried to shake off his worries and concentrate back on his driving. But the anxiety was too much, and when he almost screamed and crashed into a lamppost from seeing a dark thing with two, glowing eyes move in the shadow, which turned out to be a simple cat, he brought with shaking hands the jeep to a stop in the nearest empty parking lot.

He couldn't do it.

Before even getting his breath back, he pulled out his phone to check the time, but noticed a notification at the same time. A message from his dad, telling him he wouldn't be home this night after all.

"No, no..." he muttered, rereading the text over and over. If he managed to get home in one piece, he for sure wouldn't handle being alone in the house anyway.

What to do now ?

He thought about his situation for a second, acknowledging he was not even halfway to his home and in no state to spend the night alone without passing out from hyperventilating at some point. He was also still in the middle of an unlit parking lot, completely hidden from anyone's view.

Perfect target.

He took off, his decision made.

"Um, hi, again ?" he greeted sheepishly as a sleepy Derek slid open the loft door after a minute of knocking to wake the werewolf. The man in question lifted up an eyebrow in question, silently asking him why he came back half an hour later, despite telling him he should go home. "Um, sorry for waking you up. Can I reconsider your offer of spending the night ?"

Derek contemplated him, probably sensing the thrumming nervous energy coursing in the boy's veins. "Come in." He said after a moment, and Stiles felt relief flood his body. He could've almost dropped there from sheer appeasement, but he didn't want to make Derek impatient. He had no doubt the man wanted nothing more than to go back to bed as soon as possible.

Luckily for the both of them, it wasn't the first time Stiles spent the night over, so there was no awkward asking for pajamas or a pillow. The human knew exactly where the older man kept his softest sweatpants and shirts, and he already had a toothbrush under the sink, so he went inside the bathroom to get ready, while Derek presumably put a pillow and blanket on the couch like the previous time Stiles slept here, right before sliding under the covers again.

He was grateful he wouldn't have to spend the night alone after all, just knowing the werewolf was close and alert even in his sleep in case something happened was comforting enough that he didn't feel like he was on the verge of a panic attack anymore. Despite everything that happened in the loft, he felt more secure here than anywhere else, even more than his own room. Maybe because he was never alone here.

When he got out of the bathroom, ready to sleep his worries off, he couldn't find any change made to the couch and wondered if Derek expected him to do it himself, or if perhaps he was just too drowsy to remember to do it. Anyway, it was too cold to sleep without at least a blanket, so Stiles quietly shuffled up the stairs to the werewolf's room, as the spare bedding were kept there.

But what he didn't find was a sleeping Derek. Instead, the man was very much awake and arranging his own bed, placing a second pillow next to his, an extra plaid blanket deposited on the same side of the mattress. Upon sensing the human entering the room, he nodded to the empty space with a curt "turn off the lights" before getting under the covers.

Flabbergasted at the simple expectation of sharing a bed, which was a sudden, completely new development, Stiles hurried back downstairs to do as told, a brutal pinch at his heart making him run up the stairs when he found himself surrounded by complete darkness.

His cheeks burning with red, he got into the bed, carefully not too close to the werewolf, not wanting to disturb and invade his space even more, only for his precautions to be shattered when the older man grabbed him by the waist and slid him closer until they were spooning in the middle of the bed.

Stiles' breath left him, he couldn't move as Derek got comfortable behind him, shuffling his nose under the human's ear.

"This okay ?"

The younger man forced himself to relax, and replied in a high-pitched voice "Yes, very much okay" which made the other one snort.

After a moment, when his brain had processed and accepted the situation fully, he felt himself drifting off slowly.

"You're still telling me in the morning what happened, but goodnight Stiles." was the last thing he heard before he slipped into the deepest and most comfortable sleep he'd had in a long time.