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Derek collapsed with his back against the wall. His chest heaved with the breaths he couldn’t quite catch. He could hear the storm raging outside of the house above him, pieces of it collapsing and crashing. He jumped when something huge hit the door at the top of the stairs. A moment later, the noise got louder, and wind filled the basement as a piece of the door blew down the stairs, crashing into the wall not far from where Derek sat.
Scrambling, Derek moved to a corner, trying to find a safe space, praying for the storm to end quickly so he could get out of the basement. He moved closer to the tunnels, hoping that someone had removed the mountain ash left from Kate’s attack. He hit the wall of magic when he got close and prayed the wind would blow away the ash but didn’t hold out hope. Even natural disasters did not affect the power of belief and magic.
Moving along the wall, he found a dip in the concrete, his memory going back to the hot water heater that had stood there until he’d removed it a few weeks previous and hadn’t gotten around to replacing it. Pushing himself into the corner, he dragged over the pieces of the door and built a barricade. He knew the chances of the storm killing him were slim, but that didn’t make the situation any less terrifying.
The sirens had woken him from his doze on the mattress he’d set up in the living room. He’d been staying at the house during demolition so he could work when he wasn’t getting much sleep. He’d started to head out of the house, hoping to get to the train station before the storm hit. As soon as he’d reached the porch, he spotted the funnel cloud in the distance. Without hesitation, he turned around and headed for the basement.
He pushed against the corner, biting back whimpers as the storm continued to rage. He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket but didn’t want to reach for it. “Fuck,” he muttered when there was another crash above him.
While he attempted to figure out what had been destroyed, he heard something that forced his heart to freeze in his chest. “Derek!” Stiles screeched. “Derek! Where are you?”
Shoving at his flimsy barricade, Derek raced for the stairs, screaming Stiles’ name. He ran into him at the top of the stairs, grabbing him into a hug and moving backwards down the stairs at the same time. He barely acknowledged the site of Roscoe where the front of his house used to be as he pulled Stiles to safety.
His mind raced with thoughts of how to protect Stiles at all costs. The fear he’d felt when the storm started and the tree had come through the window near where Derek had been nothing compared to the terror at the idea of Stiles in danger.
When they reached the basement, Derek pushed Stiles into his hiding spot, pushing him into the corner as he pulled the broken door back across the opening. He immediately wrapped his arms around Stiles again, burying his face in his neck. Stiles ran his hand over Derek’s hair, soothing sounds leaving his lips.
When Derek calmed again, he pulled back to flash red eyes at Stiles. “What the hell were you thinking? Driving in a storm like this?”
Stiles heartbeat picked up. “I didn’t start out driving in the storm. I didn’t even know it was coming when I headed here. When I heard the sirens, I was closer to the house than home, so I just sped up and kept coming.”
“You’re lucky Roscoe didn’t die,” Derek growled.
“I think driving up your porch and through your front door might have taken care of that,” Stiles said, “but I didn’t think I’d make it from the yard to the porch on foot.”
Derek growled at that. “The important thing is that I’m safe, and you’re safe,” Stiles assured him, pulling him back into a tight hug.
The fight went out of Derek, and he just allowed himself to be comforted as the storm continued. He kept his ears tuned to it, hoping nothing else came down the stairs. He could hear Roscoe being shoved further across the foyer. “We need to try and get out of here,” Derek said.
“It’s safest here,” Stiles argued.
“The tunnels,” Derek said, raising his voice to be heard over a sudden whine from upstairs.
Stiles looked thoughtful and then nodded. He grabbed one of Derek’s hands. Working quickly while still staying joined, they pushed aside the wood protecting them and moved across the basement to the tunnel. Derek pointed at the mountain ash, and Stiles broke the line, pulling Derek across it and into the tunnel.
They continued moving until the sound of the storm grew quieter, finally collapsing into a heap on the ground. Derek made sure to take the brunt of the fall so that Stiles didn’t bump his head. Once they’d landed, he rolled to the side, hands still clasped between them as they caught their breath.
“Why were you coming out here?” Derek asked when his mind slowed down, and he could form words again. “Was something wrong?”
“I didn’t have anything to do today and thought you might like some help with the house,” Stiles offered, his heart rate speeding up slightly with the lie.
“Well, I don’t have to worry about demolishing the front door anymore,” Derek said with a chuckle.
“See, I helped already.” They both laughed until Stiles’ scent soured with sadness. “I killed Roscoe.”
“I’ll fix him,” Derek offered. “I worked on cars while I was in New York.”
“I can’t afford it,” Stiles argued.
“I can.”
“Why would-”
“Shh,” Derek interrupted, surprised when Stiles immediately cut off. Derek strained his ears, hearing nothing above them for the first time in what felt like hours but had probably only been about fifteen minutes. He stood up, pulling Stiles to his feet. He headed further down the tunnel towards the exit.
Climbing the ladder at the end of the tunnel, he crossed his fingers when he reached the top, pushing against the wooden trap door. He let out a relieved sigh when it moved. Pushing it up enough to peek out, he gasped. The sky was an eerie green color, and everything was completely still. He felt more than heard Stiles scrambling up the ladder, crowding him on the step so that he could see, too.
“It’s the eye of the storm,” Stiles said, breathing out. “It looks almost magical.”
“Too bad it’ll be deadly again in a few minutes,” Derek grumbled, hearing the rumble of the storm coming closer.
“That’s usually our luck with magic anyway,” Stiles said, lifting his phone and snapping a photo of the world around before flipping the camera and pushing his face against Derek’s for a selfie. “1, 2, 3 for eye flare,” he said, and Derek averted his eyes just before the fake shutter clicked.
“You’re an idiot,” Derek said, putting his hand on top of Stiles’ head and pushing down to encourage him back down the ladder. He pulled the door shut after them, hoping that it held shut when the storm picked up again, but in case it didn’t, he led Stiles back down the tunnel towards the basement.
They stopped about halfway back, just as a loud crash sounded above them, the world shaking around them. Derek didn’t even want to think what had hit the ground to cause such a commotion. He leaned back against the wall, sliding down it to sit on the floor. Stiles mirrored the action against the opposite wall, their legs tangling together between them. Sighing, he let his head fall back against the wall.
“I spy…” Stiles started.
“No,” Derek cut him off, tilting his head enough to look at him. “You’re bored already?”
Stiles shrugged, looking away from Derek as another crash sounded above them. Derek heard the uptick in Stiles’ heart and noticed the bead of sweat on his upper lip. “You’re scared.” Stiles shrugged again, refusing to look at Derek. Derek watched him for a few minutes, the slight tremors every time the wind rushed overhead. Within five minutes, Derek recognized the hitch in Stiles’ breathing.
Reaching across the hallway, Derek pulled Stiles over to sit between his legs, back to Derek’s chest. Wrapping his arms around him as Stiles’ chest began to heave, he pressed a hand over Stiles’ heart. “Breathe with me,” he said into Stiles’ ear. “In.” Derek took a deep breath, feeling Stiles’ still heaving chest. “C’mon, Stiles. In.” This time he detected a small intake of breath and counted it as a win.
Derek spent several minutes encouraging Stiles to breathe with him until the panic attack passed. “Thanks,” Stiles managed, struggling against Derek’s hold, but he refused to release him. “You can let go, now.”
“Not until the storm is over,” Derek said, holding him tighter, trying to keep the whine out of his voice. The tension fell from his shoulders when Stiles relaxed in his grip, his head falling back on Derek’s shoulder, unconsciously baring his neck to Derek.
Within minutes, Stiles started tapping his fingers against Derek’s thigh. Derek knew the fidgeting would just get worse as time went on unless he distracted him. Huffing out a sigh, Derek glanced up and down the hallway, eyes falling on something about halfway up the wall. “I spy something that starts with ‘s.’” He hid his grin in Stiles’ neck when he let out a cheer and started making guesses. “Stiles, I’m pretty sure Superman isn’t down here,” he said once five minutes passed.
“I know, but I also know that if I pay attention to that spider on the far wall, I’m liable to panic again,” he said, grinning when Derek poked him in the side.
“I suppose the options are limited for a game of ‘I Spy,’” Derek admitted.
“Twenty questions?” Stiles suggested. Derek shook his head, almost afraid to find out what kind of things Stiles would come up with him to guess. “Truth or dare.”
Derek thought about it for a minute, realizing it could be fun, especially since he’d be able to tell if Stiles was lying. “Alright.”
“I mean, if you don’t want to, you can come up with...Wait. Alright?”
“Sure, alright,” Derek said. “I’ll start. Truth or dare?”
Stiles remained quiet for a minute. Derek’s lips curled into a smirk, convinced the boy would chicken out and suggest a different game to avoid the risk of giving away any secrets that he wanted to remain hidden from Derek. He also didn’t trust Derek enough not to humiliate him with a dare. Finally, just when Derek wanted to give in and suggest a different game, Stiles spoke up. “Truth.”
Surprised, it took Derek a second to come up with a question to ask. “Are you really afraid of spiders?”
Stiles snorted. “Yes, especially since I snuck downstairs to watch Arachnophobia when I was a kid. Lame question, though.” Derek shrugged. “Truth or dare?”
Derek pressed his lips together, wondering which choice would be the most entertaining for him and distracting for Stiles. “Truth.”
Stiles leaned his head back onto Derek’s shoulder, twisting so he could see his face. “Have you ever kissed a guy?”
Derek was thankful that Stiles wasn’t a werewolf when his heart thudded to a stop before starting up again at a rapid pace. “Yes,” he admitted after several minutes. He knew that he’d be able to lie, but with Stiles, especially in the near-dark with the storm above them, he didn’t want to lie. Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but Derek cut him off. “Truth or dare.”
“Truth,” Stiles said without hesitation.
Derek wanted to throw the same question right back at him but knew Stiles would laugh and tell him he was lame. Then again, Derek had realized in recent months that he liked hearing Stiles’ laugh. “Have you ever kissed a guy?”
Just as predicted, Stiles laughed. “Giving you a failing grade for creativity,” Stiles said. “Seriously, dude, can’t you come up with your own questions?”
Derek shrugged, jostling Stiles’ head. “I could, but I want to know the answer.” He heard Stiles’ heartbeat stutter. Stiles licked his lips; Derek’s eyes tracking the movement before looking back up to his eyes. Stiles’ pupils were blown, and the scent of arousal started to overpower that of his fear and the storm. “So, what’s the answer?” he whispered when Stiles still didn’t answer after a minute.
“No.” Stiles swallowed audibly, even to a human after he’d answered.
“Because you didn’t want to, or….” Derek trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.
“It’s not your turn,” Stiles argued.
“Truth or dare?” Derek asked, putting extra emphasis on the second word in hopes of encouraging Stiles.
“Still not your turn.” He turned in Derek’s arms so he was kneeling in front of him. “Truth or dare, Derek.”
Closing his eyes and hoping things would go the way he wanted, Derek let out a breath. “Dare.”
“Kiss me,” Stiles said before the word had even left Derek’s lips.
Smiling, Derek leaned forward, brushing his lips across Stiles’. Pulling back, he chuckled at the awed look on Stiles’ face. “Truth or dare.”
“Truth,” Stiles said, after a moment, his eyes never leaving Derek’s lips.
“Do you want to do that again?”
“Many, many times,” Stiles said. “Truth or -”
“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek interrupted, putting his hand around the back of Stiles’ neck, pulling him into a kiss, deciding the storm could take its time. He was perfectly happy right there in the tunnels with Stiles in his arms.