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Stiles, so torn up after the fallout with Scott, and no one to talk about this whole thing; seeing as Lydia and Malia are missing, Derek is god knows where, and his dad is on shift. And he doesn’t want to talk to his dad, he doesn’t want to see that same level of fear of him that he saw with Scott. So he goes to the one person who’s always been like a second mother to him; Melissa.
***
Melissa’s not on shift tonight, heading home early after her co-worker Tina had insisted on covering for her, seeing how Melissa was exhausted, running on barely there fumes.
She doesn’t know what to expect when she opens the door to a few sharp knocks, but Stiles standing there soaked to the bone, eyes rimmed red from crying wasn’t one of them. She ushers him inside, telling him to go take a shower while she made herself some tea, and for Stiles that special brand of cocoa that he likes that she keeps in the cabinet, hidden away from Scott for occasions like these. And she has to remind herself to pick up more, it’s the last packet in the box.
Stiles come back, wearing soft comfy sweats and an old t-shirt he had stashed away. Melissa doesn’t say anything when he avoids her gaze, instead opting to drink the cocoa silently, reveling in the warmth that seeps to his very core, calming down the shivers that over took him earlier that even a hot shower couldn’t dissipate.
Once his cocoa’s gone there’s a moment of awkward silence until Melissa goes up to him and presses a kiss to his forehead, telling him to get some sleep. He does, he takes a blanket and pillow and opts to sleep on the couch that night. Melissa watching him closely, noticing how he seems to shrink in on himself, as if to hide.
It’s close to midnight when she hears it, a faint scratching at the door. This visitor, she thought she might expect, especially after Stiles came. When she opens the door it’s to a huge black wolf, fur slightly damp and drops of water racing down his muzzle, blue eyes glowing softly and head slightly bent towards his chest to keep his package dry.
While Derek’s been gone him and Melissa talk occasionally, usually sharing stories about each other’s families and giving advice to the other when needed. Their relationship is something short of a mother and son, and he’ll occasionally call her for medical advice when his healing’s slow and the bleeding hasn’t stopped. Melissa worries for him all the time on top of Scott and stiles, still seeing that little boy that helped her with her groceries when she obviously couldn’t get them all in her house herself while Scott was away at Stiles for a sleepover.
She will always see that devastated teenager that sat in the police department after the fire, looking stricken and positively heartbroken. And on top of that, guilty.
So she let’s him inside, grabbing the box of cocoa she might have slipped was Stile’s favorite during one of their conversations and that she was running low on, and goes to get a towel. Coming back to see Derek wiping his paws on the mat, refusing to get a drop water on her floors, out of habit she supposes.
She gets him as dry as she can, going back to get another towel before he’s fully dry, muttering about how he shouldn’t have run all this way, his paw pads will end up being run down to the bone if he keeps doing this. Running back from wherever he goes to every few weeks to bring her gifts, maybe a box of her favorite bath salts and tea that she likes that regular stores don’t carry, and the occasional security; checking the perimeter and making sure she’s alright, getting updates form her on how the pack is doing, sometimes he’ll lay by her feet as she talks to him.
He’ll listen to her muttering about her distrust for that ‘Theo’ kid that recently showed up. When she brings him up Derek’s ears will perk and his eyes will narrow, a low growl forming. she tells him not to worry, it’s probably just a mother worrying about nothing, even though that feeling hasn’t quite gotten away at all. Instead coming back full force, especially tonight. She didn’t raise Scott Mccall from not being able able to detect small things like that, however small the danger could be.
***
Once he’s dry she notices the small low whine he’s trying to hold back, and she tell him he’s on the couch, noticing how he seems eager to get to his destination, claws clicking on the floor wildly. She doesn’t even need to look to know that his tail is probably wagging.
She puts the towels away and goes to turn off the lights and head to bed, no need to watch over Stiles now since there’s about 200 pounds of fur there to act as security.
And if she smiles as Stiles hugs the wolf closer, said wolf giving a few licks to the boy’s cheek before laying his head over his, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness as he watches over the boy, no one needs to know but her.