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“Do you know where Stiles is? I haven’t seen him all day,” Derek asked Scott when he appeared in the beta’s room. “I need to talk to him.”
Scott stared at Derek for a long moment. “You don’t know what today is do you?” he replied sadly like he felt sorry for the Alpha. Derek wrinkled his brow.
“It’s October 17. What does that have anything to do with where Stiles is?” Derek threw back.
Scott frowned. “Three years ago today Stiles was pulled out of class by his father and the school counselor. Do you wanna know why, Derek?” Scott raised a brow, his question rhetorical.
“His mother,” Derek whispered, putting the pieces together.
Scott nodded. “He’s probably at the cemetery. But if you’re going to bother him there it better be damn good,” Scott told him.
Derek frowned. He actually didn’t have anything he needed to tell Stiles about, he just missed the kid weirdly enough. Derek liked being in his presence; it was easy and comfortable and it made Derek relax in a way he couldn’t do with anyone else. He gave Scott a nod and left for his car.
Beacon Hills Cemetery was out past the reserve on a long stretch of flat land, past the forest. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a tall black gate that led directly into it. There was no parking lot or short streets to drive through the maze of graves. Derek pulled onto the grass beside the blue Jeep and cut the engine.
He followed Stiles scent for about a mile and then he saw the boy, rushing over. Stiles was shaking, curled into a ball and leaning against a large headstone that stood about eighteen inches high and was carved out of rose marble in the shape of a tear drop. White stone roses climbed one of the sides and Derek couldn’t properly read the words that Stiles covered up.
“Stiles!” Derek shouted as he got near before dropping to pull the boy close.
Stiles felt warm hard arms pull him in and hold him tight and it made the panic worse. It wasn’t really Derek’s fault; the alpha just didn’t know how to handle someone having a panic attack. Stiles’ vision tunneled and he was gasping for air, he struggled against Derek’s hold but Derek just tightened his arms. Eventually Stiles wiggled one of his arms free and managed to hit Derek in the nose. The arms dropped and Stiles scrambled away quickly. He collapsed on the ground about twenty feet away and saw Derek coming towards him again.
“D-don’t hug me,” Stiles bit out as Derek crouched next to him.
Derek’s gaze widened but he nodded, resting a hand gently on Stiles’ arms. “What can I do then? Tell me what’s wrong,” Derek urged, as Stiles shook beneath his palm, breathing erratic and heart beat entirely too fast to be safe.
“Jus…talk,” Stiles choked, squeezing his eyes shut.
Derek nodded, and tried to find words. He was never very good at saying what he was thinking, even before the fire he had trouble coming up with what to say or how to convey his feelings.
“Laura used to make fun of me because I would trip over my words a lot as a kid. I never knew how to find the right words and there was never anything I really wanted to say either. I was like my mom. She was quiet, too, but when she spoke everyone listened because it was important. I miss them a lot sometimes. There were children in that fire, did you know?” Derek nodded, ignoring the tears that were spilling. His only concern was Stiles, whose tremors were becoming softer and breathing coming easier. Whiskey brown eyes were trained on Derek’s face as he spoke, so he kept going. “Humans too. I had little twin siblings, Nate and Natalie. They were five. They had pale blonde hair like my mother and her fair skin. She was beautiful. They got my dad’s brown eyes and my mother’s blonde hair; Laura and I got my dad’s dark hair and mom’s green eyes. I miss them so much sometimes it’s like I can’t breathe because it hurts so bad.”
Derek blinked and stared down at Stiles who was finally still beneath his palm. Stiles sat up slowly and moved around until he was sitting beside Derek but facing him. They both sat cross legged on the grass under one of the big trees, Derek’s knee against Stiles’ hip and vice versa. Derek’s hand had fallen to Stiles’ thigh when he moved and Stiles scooped it up quickly, trying to hide the faint blush on his cheeks as he wound fingers through Derek’s.
“I have my mom’s eyes, too. I remember thinking that I had the prettiest mom out of everyone else,” Stiles laughed softly, trailing off into a wistful watery sigh so Derek squeezed his fingers to remind him that he wasn’t alone, that Derek was there for him. “She was tall, about 5’8 and she had this really pretty dark brown hair that was really long. I remember when it started to fall out,” Stiles choked out, trying to smother the sob. “I was twelve when she got sick and I remember feeling like someone pulled the floor out from under my feet and I was free falling. She cried so hard when she found her hair on her pillow so I went to Scott’s house and made him help me shave my head. When I went to school bald though, not even Jackson made fun of me.”
Stiles wiped a hand over his face to scrub the tears away and Derek reached up to help, rubbing his thumbs gently under each eye. Stiles sniffled and looked down at his lap where his fingers had been idly pulling up grass and shredding it to pieces.
“I’d go with her to chemo and hold her hands and read her books to try to distract her from how much the chemicals hurt in her veins. She ended up in the hospital two weeks before I started high school and I’d rush there every day as soon as the bell rang. One Wednesday I was sitting in algebra and my dad and Mrs. Morrell pulled me out of class to take me to the hospital because they didn’t think she was going to last much longer. I got there five minutes before she died and the last thing I said to her was, ‘It’s okay, mom. I love you. You can go.’ And she…she just smiled this weak thing and was gone.” Stiles leaned into Derek’s shoulder and sobbed, clutching the leather jacket tightly in his fists.
Derek pulled Stiles into his lap, unfolding his legs and situating Stiles between them as the boy cried.
Scott showed up at some point, probably feeling the emotions from his pack ties to the Alpha, and eventually the whole pack was there, even the humans. They somehow shifted a few feet over so Derek’s back was against the trunk of the big oak, Stiles in his lap, and everyone gathered around them. Scott had his head on Stiles’ hip, arms wrapped around his legs. Erica was at Stiles’ back, one arm around his chest and her face in his neck. Allison and Lydia crowded against Derek’s other side, Allison’s head on Stiles’ shoulder and Lydia’s head on Allison’s stomach with an arm around Stiles’ torso. Boyd was curled around Erica, a hand on Stiles’ bicep. Jackson was next to Lydia, his hand resting on Stiles’ elbow. Danny was wedged between the girls’ legs - ironically enough - with his arm curled around one of Stiles’ thighs, head on the teen’s vacant hip next to Scott. Isaac was haphazardly laying across everyone but looking comfortable just the same.
Stiles allowed himself to be cuddled, allowed the pack to ease some of the ache in his chest and was grateful for it. His head was on Derek’s shoulder and he pressed his face into the wolf’s neck, one hand still fisted tightly in Derek’s t-shirt, but Derek didn’t mind. His arms curled protectively around Stiles and he nuzzled the boy’s hair. He kept trying to use his wolfy powers to take Stiles’ pain, but it seemed impossible to take away emotional pain because it wasn’t palpable. It only worked on the physical.
“Thanks guys,” Stiles said softly, lips brushing against Derek’s collarbone and raising gooseflesh there.
“Love you“‘s echoed from everyone and Stiles nuzzled closer into Derek’s chest. The pain of losing his mother wasn’t gone, but it at least was manageable with his pack, his family, his loved ones around him. He wondered if it would have the same effect on his dad but decided that he’d probably just be weirded out by a bunch of teens and Derek Hale trying to cuddle him on the sofa. Stiles smirked at the image and then sighed, closing his eyes and pressing a subconscious kiss to the hollow of Derek’s throat.
“Thanks for finding me, Derek,” Stiles told him and he felt a soft rumble in the man’s chest.
“I’ll always find you, Stiles,” Derek replied, and kissed his head.