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In the time of crisis, we can be prepared. We are always thinking of the worst possible scenario and prepare. We suffer through crisis. We survive and overcome it. However, we never think of the calm after the storm. We do not recover and return to life. Sometimes things are so out of balance that what you are obliged to call normal is nothing of the sorts. What is left on the beach after a hurricane? Ruble. After the pain and anguish of what once was, calmness seems like just another foe because it promises the unkeepable. It promises that tomorrow will be like today. Until it won't. Sometimes, after you have been in the eye of the storm and out, you are just left by a window. Tapping your foot and looking at the people around you, wondering how to tell them what you are keeping within. Your story. Not of how the storm was but life without it.
_________________
Stiles sat down on the chair in the corner of the room in the clinic with me as Scott cleaned up. It has been unsettling, to say the least. It isn’t that Stiles has stayed around at the end of the day but he has never been this quiet. He is sitting there, shaking his leg. Not reading or listening to music. Just spaced out and staring at a box of q-tips while shaking his foot. Scott finally finishes up and turns to him.
“Stiles. This is scary. What is wrong with you?”
He turned as if shot him in the head and he is shocked at the level of betrayal. He then sat up in the chair. “Scott. I. I need to talk to you, buddy.”
“Is everything okay? Do you need help?”
“In general, probably yes. Right now, no, not really.” He shook his leg for a bit more before finding the words to speak. “I need to tell you a story.”
Scott sat up on the table and listened to him, expecting the worst at this point.
“It all started a few months ago. It started off with a whole lot of nothing.”
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5 months ago...
It was a cold miserable night in Beacon Hills. Stiles was a little drunk but it cooled off the bad mood, the remanents of a panic attack, and the injuries on his body. It was not his style to go out and get drunk with strangers. However, if any night was right for it, it was that night.
He hoped to run into people who would have been out of their mind but unfortunately met a rather nice group of people who were of the same goal to get trashed that night. They were university kids who finished some exams and really blowing off steam. Usually, on any other occasion ever, Stiles would not have believed that he is hanging out and drinking with older people at a club but that night was different. After the shock of the adventure sits in, it sours. He could have died. He could have seen his best friends die. At this point, he knew there would be something new just around the corner.
The night started with a nightmare. He woke up screaming from a nightmare. In his dream, he was a decapitated head that lay on the pavement and watched his friends being torn apart. Sheriff was away that night so Stiles did not find any reason why not to get into his car and do something to break routine more than anything that is not supernatural can. The students, after their exams, recognized the pain in his eyes and just welcomed him into their ranks. They likely could tell that he was not 21 but let it slide.
Stiles drank and drank until he finally got out when people started to leave. He offered to go with them by cab back to town but Stiles decided to just go for a walk. He was not bashed enough to get behind the wheel but he was just bashed enough to walk in the middle of a dark road while it was drizzling and cold. The alcohol kept him burning so everything felt perfect. He would walk on the white strips in the middle of the road and some cars passed. One even honked angrily. He then decided to lie down. The concrete was cold and unwelcoming but he enjoyed the sight of the mildly purple sky above him.
A motorcycle was heard being driven by and he did not think that he should get up. Things have been such a pain that he did not think it was worth it to try and get up at this point. He just enjoyed the cold and the sky.
He only looked away when the motorcycle stopped near him and the driver walked over to him. “Well, what an ugly piece of road kill.” Stiles laughed drunkenly and looked up at Derek Hale.
“S’up, wolf boy.”
“Who served you alcohol?”
“Fun people. You would not understand.” He then began to laugh at his own joke. Derek rolled his eyes at him before offering him a hand.
“Let’s go, Stilinski.”
Stiles refused the hand and managed to get up himself. Derek got him on the back of his motorcycle with a spare jacket and helmet. It felt like only a few minutes on the bike despite the fact that it took them 40 minutes to get to Derek’s place. “Your place? Is this a kidnapping?”
“Please, as if you would be worth a ransom. You dad may not be a wolf, but I am absolutely sure he would smell your stench from outside the house.” Derek dragged Stiles by pulling Stiles’s arm over his shoulder. Stiles’s walking made Derek hit two door frames.
“And what inspired this anarchy?” He asked when he threw Stiles’s body on the couch like a sack of potatoes.
Stiles laughed and rolled over a little to his side. “How do you do it, Derek? You know, keep your bullshit intact.”
Derek threw a throw over Stiles and turned off the lights.
“Go to sleep.” He put a bucket next to him. “I will skin you alive if you throw up on my floor.”
Stiles laughed like an idiot and it came out much darker and less like that of someone completely thrashed.
“You don’t, don’t you?”
“What?”
“You don’t have anything figured out, do you? You are scared of the shit we do. You are scared to know when you will die because it could be tomorrow.”
Derek looked at Stiles in the dark and on the broke smile on his face, lit up by the little bit of light from outside.
“Go to sleep.”
_________________
Scott wondered how this was relevant. Stiles sounded like he was stretching the story, whatever the point was. Derek told him about the very drunk Stiles he found on the side of the road while checking up on the leftover details of the mission. Scott got why Stiles was hurting. He was too.
Although just a month ago, it looked like Stiles was better than anyone. He was in such a good mood it was scary to watch him smile at the coach and even turn in a homework early. Everyone was shocked when that happened. The non-religious teacher even crossed herself when it happened.
“It kind of started then.”
_________________
It had been weeks since anything happened and life had taken up a sort of routine again. It was something very scary to endure while you cannot trust it. It is like when you are a kid and you did something bad and you hear your parents yell out your full name when they discover what you did. You freeze in horror for a second knowing that your punishment is imminent. Life felt like that. Each day.
It was a late Friday night and Stiles found himself at Derek’s place. They sat in a different room from where they usually did just because Derek said he hated their scents all around his sleeping area and it bothered him to sleep. The others all left. Stiles lingered and Derek was not kicking him out. It was a bit of comfortable silence but after thinking of what he wanted to say, some tension started to build up.
“Did it help you to get drunk that night? Did you get the break from our reality?”
Stiles was shocked that Derek asked this, let alone spoke first.
“Honestly, it did. It didn’t solve anything but it was a much needed time out. I definitely regretted it the next day. It was well worth it though.”
“I guess it does work better when you just start.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Is it time you go home? It is getting dark out. You know the way out.”
Derek left the room and Stiles could not help but know better that he could not leave Derek there and there. He followed him upstairs. The curtains were pulled up and all of the light from downstairs was useless as it was getting really dark out. Stiles could see as far as the staircase but he could not adjust his eyes to the darkness. He wandered into the room. A thought flashed his mind. He is literally going in blind into a room of a person who is in a clearly bad mood, has the tendency to act aggressively and can transform into a wolf. Stiles thought it was telling of his life that he did not feel scared at all.
He walked carefully through the room until his foot kicked something. Whatever it was rolled and he heard to glass items clink together. Two bottles.
“Derek?” He walked carefully till his leg hit the bed. He reached out to the bed and hit Derek’s leg so he knew he was there.
“Go away, Stiles.” He groaned.
Stiles ignored him and moved onto the bed. “What’s wrong?”
A sort of laugh escaped him that oddly resembled a bark. “Do you even need to ask that question after lying drunk in the middle of the road, drunk out of your mind?” He said between his teeth. “It gets worse with time when nothing happens and your mind is reduced to nothing.”
Stiles understood what he meant. He did not note the moment when he realized that he and Derek were lying on the same bed together and facing one another. He could feel his warm ragged breath on his face. It felt warm. Safe. As if the whole world outside had already erupted once more, they were outside of it all. It eased the never-ending dread.
“Can you see anything?” Stiles asked, knowing Derek can see much better than he can in the dark.
“Not really. I went out of my way to block out the light.” The light outside had faded so much that the room had achieved pitch darkness to which adjusting was impossible. Stiles could just feel Derek lying next to him. The weight on the bed. The breath on his face. The warmth of his body.
“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If two people do something even they don't see, did it really happen?"
"It does not have to."
Stiles hesitated before leaning in to meet his lips already half way to meet his. Saying anything was out of the question. It can be denied as far as they both choose. Yet then and there it was not about denial.
Stiles wrapped an arm around him around his waist with his hand running up his back. He clung to his strong back muscles. Derek's hand went around Stiles and they were chest to chest. The kiss didn't break. It was a fucking good kiss. Stiles had kissed the biggest amount of people but this was definitely a good kiss. Passionate, urgent, and best of all not slobbery despite how much tongue was involved.
It was dark. It was warm. It felt like a safe space.
Stiles ran his hand up Derek's shirt, rubbing across the lines of his muscles. He would stop the second he felt like Derek did not want it but the idea was unlikely as Derek pulled off Stiles shirt and then made it really easy for the other to do the same.
With their skin touching, Stiles could practically feel Derek's heart beating against his.
Things got more heated. Pants came off. Touching. Rubbing against. Kissing. Small bites. It was too fun to stop.
______________
For a few days, they avoided each other. Stiles felt anxious on been the one to have to run away in the morning like some crime was committed. When they finally saw each other in a group, they felt comfortable enough to act like nothing happened.
Until something did happen.
They were suddenly left alone at Derek's place and it happened again. Dark room. Clothes coming off. Less hesitation to touch.
Afterwards, it was harder to go to sleep and say nothing.
"What are we doing?" asked Stiles.
"Blowing off steam."
Slowly, it had become a regular thing and a certain line stayed up as long as it stayed in the dark.
Until the day Stiles suddenly broke it.
It was after another time they were at Derek's and they were leaving. Stiles had work to do. He was not going to stay. Things had fallen under some illusion of peace and calm for a moment that he did not think when everyone was leaving that he kissed Derek's cheek.
He ran out faster than he would ever have the ability to run but he did. The whole evening he was trying to get it out of his head, focus on some work anything. Whatever they were doing came out of the dark. The tree had fallen and they were there to hear it hit the ground.
After suffering through his work but still managing to do it somehow, he decided that it was not his fault. If any fault should be placed it was on Derek. Or so he would at least tell himself. Deciding that confrontation would be best.
He did not understand why he thought confrontation was the best when he found himself standing right in front of him, looking at his green eyes. He was pissed off at himself but it was too late.
"What are we doing, Derek?"
"I already answered that question."
"Give me a better answer. I want to know just... you know what forget it." He turned away to leave, he had no idea whether he was trying to end it all together but he definitely knew how Derek felt when he got pushed into the wall.
"You really have to stop slamming me into walls."
"Don't go."
"Not going to work. Tell that you want me to stay."
He could see lines of tension building in his face and a vein visible in his neck.
"Please stay."
Stiles smiled and just kissed him.
______________
Things got cute from there. Like criminally cute.
They would have small dates of sorts. Neither would ever call it that but there is no way to call it anything else. Sitting around and eating take out. Derek laughing at Stiles attempts to work out but encouraging him to keep going. Making food together after too many nights of takeout and leftover takeout. Sleeping over.
Time to make out and have sex did not always exist but that did not mean they would not. Being late places was less of a hassle.
Stiles could not help but sleep better. Even some unwanted acne just went away. Yet when things go more serious, more permanent. More daily full of texts and so much time together, it felt criminal to keep it secret.
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"So you've been dating Derek for a few months now."
Stiles fidgetted. "Yes. Ugh... yes."
"Lidya noticed a few months back, we've been placing bets on when you guys tell us. I owe Lidya cash now."
"Fuck you, guys."