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Derek heard his front door open and walked down from the bedroom, smiling a little at the familiar thud of his boyfriend’s bookbag hitting the floor. When a second thunk came from the door, he furrowed his brow and hurried down the steps. He was just in time to see Stiles whack his head off the door twice more before pushing away and stalking into the kitchen. The human always showed up when he finished his afternoon classes, generally with a joke that Derek’s fridge was better stocked then his, so it was worth the extra ten-minute drive. Plus bonus makeouts.
Today, though, Derek didn’t need his werewolf senses to see that Stiles was unsettled. He twitched around the kitchen, picking things up and putting them back down aimlessly. He opened the fridge door twice, but closed it again without pulling anything out. He picked a glass up from the counter and filled it with water. The bottom of the glass caught the edge of the sink, sending it tumbling to the floor.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK!” Stiles’ fist hit the counter as he stared at the shattered, wet mess on the floor. When his shoulders started shaking, Derek surged forward, careful to avoid the glass, so he could wrap his arms around his human.
“Stiles, what happened?” He nosed gently at his cheek, trying to look into his eyes.
He was caught off guard when Stiles forcefully pushed him away with a grunt. “Just… nothing. Nothing, Derek. Everything’s just freakin’ fine, no problems here.” He stalked back into the living room, heading for the door.
It wasn’t often that Derek used his ‘freakish werewolf powers’ against his boyfriend, but he wasn’t letting him leave. He darted forward, grabbing the younger man’s arm and pulling him tight against him. Ignoring Stiles’ flailing and swearing, he picked him up and plopped onto the couch, not loosening his arms. “I asked you a question, idiot. What’s wrong?”
“And I fucking said nothing! Nothing is wrong. Everything’s peachy and fucking sunshine and roses, Derek. Just like always.” He struggled again, trying to break away, but Derek tightened his grip, dropping a kiss on his forehead.
“Stiles…”
“Ugh, whatever. Ya wanna know what’s wrong? I don’t even know. I don’t know. It’s just been the shittiest day ever and I can’t manage to do anything right and all I want to do is curl up and sleep for a week, but I can’t. I just… I can’t anymore. I can’t do anything anymore. I just…” He whimpered, burying his face in Derek’s chest.
Taking a deep breath, Derek kissed the top of his head, shifting his arms slightly so he could rub Stiles’ back. He hated feeling so useless, but as Stiles had pointed out more than once, he was crap at the comforting thing. So he did the only thing he could really think of, pressing his lips into shaggy brown hair and letting his chest rumble soothingly. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Letting out a deep breath, Stiles relaxed into Derek’s chest, shaking slightly. “It’s stupid… just… everything that could possibly go wrong did. Dumped my breakfast on the floor, broke a plate… got a flat on the way to school, ran out of my adderal and didn’t realize it; I’m pretty sure I bombed that huge test that I really needed to pass, and got a ticket on the way over here because my inspection is out and I didn’t notice.”
As he spoke, Derek let his hands dig gently into the bunched, tense muscles in Stiles’ shoulders. The soft hitching breaths made Derek whine softly in his throat, tightening his grip again. He could smell the tears his boyfriend was trying to hide and pulled him completely onto his lap, pulling his legs up so his human was completely wrapped up in him.
He knew better than to talk… his attempts at verbal comfort usually ended in Stiles laughing himself sick or punching him. There weren’t really words for moments like these anyway; the moments when Stiles would drop his cheerful face and you could read every painful memory in his eyes. Despite his normal word vomit, when he was having a bad day, the less said, the better. Stiles didn’t believe in empty platitudes and Derek refused to voice them; they’d both learned a long time ago that ‘everything will be ok’ was bullshit.
Later, they would work together to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Derek would cook dinner while Stiles complained about his homework. He’d find out the next day that he’d aced the test he thought he’d failed, and Derek would steal his Jeep while he was in class to get it inspected. Tomorrow would be a better day.
But for right now, the werewolf gently tipped them over and settled Stiles between the back of the couch and his chest, curling back around him. He was crap with verbal comfort, but Derek would always be there to hold him together when it felt like the rest of the world was trying to pull him apart.