Chapter Text
Stiles wasn’t really close to Derek in any way, even though circumstances constantly forced them to work together in a lot of bad situations. They had awkward banter that walked the line between being frenemies and making actual threats, Stiles was kind of a third wheel to Derek and Scott’s weird territory war, and they saved each other’s lives when they needed to. They never got close in any way beyond that, which might have had something to do with the turf war, or the intense way their relationship started, or just Stiles’ entire personality. Derek just really didn’t like Stiles. Or at least, that’s what Stiles had always thought, based on Derek’s constant threats and grumbling.
Which is why he was particularly surprised to wake up one night (early morning?) to Derek knocking on his window.
Stiles rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he pulled open his window. It had been unlocked.
“Dude, is the world ending? Again? Why didn’t you just come in?,” he blinked blearily. Derek looked… off. His shoulders were slumped, and his face was kind of nervous and angry, but he didn’t seem to be bleeding. Then again, werewolf, so Stiles started trying to wake up, preparing to process a new threat.
Derek shrugged a bit, and didn’t look Stiles in the eye as he answered, “The world isn’t ending, I just. Can I come in?”
Stiles stared at him for a moment, not quite sure what to make of this. Was Derek here to threaten him, or, something? Why would he come find Stiles if there wasn’t a new problem? But as he looked a little longer, he saw that Derek was making a face he’d never seen before, angry but not scowling, even sad. Stiles broke out of his sleepy fog a bit and realized Derek looked vulnerable. More than he ever had before, even after the shitstorm with Peter and Kate a couple weeks ago.
“Uh, yeah, sure? Are you sure the apocalypse hasn’t started without me? You never come just to visit, dude.” Derek just slides onto the floor and shuffles toward the bed a bit, with his head down, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He looks lost, and Stiles might still not trust him that much, but his heart twists a little at the tired, sad man in front of him.
Actually, Stiles realizes, he does trust Derek. After the shit they’ve been through together, what they’ve done for each other, Derek has proven that regardless of personal feelings, he will do what needs to be done to keep everyone alive.
Stiles doesn’t really know what to do with this situation, suddenly having an incredibly attractive and vulnerable man standing in his bedroom for, some reason, but when Derek opens his mouth to say something and just starts shaking, Stiles feels a rush of protectiveness and he reaches out to help him sit on the bed.
Stiles has always had an intense desire to comfort and take care of people, which takes precedence over most everything else, allowing him to focus and push himself to extremes in order to protect the people he cares about. Starting when his mom died and he set aside his own feelings for the sake of his dad, Stiles seems like a very light-hearted and uncaring person, because he sacrifices his own mental health, thinking it isn’t as important as everyone else’s. Stiles occasionally reveals the incredible depth and strength of his character when he needs to, to his friends’ surprise, and their low opinion of him hurts, though he would never say it.
“What’s wrong Derek? What happened? It’s okay, I just need to know what’s happening so I can help,” Stiles says quietly and calmly, shifting from his usual sarcastic self to the gentle persona he uses when his dad gets back into the bottle. Derek just looks at him with wide eyes, and Stiles’ concern level ratchets from Def-con 2 to Def-con 3 when Derek’s breathing picks up and he can’t seem to slow it down, but he keeps his heartbeat steady because he knows Derek can hear it. Derek’s eyes are bright red, and his claws come out of his shaking hands.
“Derek, I think you’re having a panic attack. I used to get them all the time after my mom died, it’s okay,” Stiles keeps talking quietly, forcing himself to calm down because Derek needs his help now, dammit. Stiles reaches out slowly and puts Derek’s hand over his heart.
“Feel my heartbeat, try to match your breathing to mine.” Derek looks even more scared for a second. “It’s okay if you can’t, it’s okay. Just keep breathing, you’re safe, I’m here, it’s okay.”
Stiles reaches out the hand not wrapped around Derek’s and runs it through his hair, surprised at it’s softness. Derek leans into Stiles’ shoulder, still shaking badly, and Stiles’ heart fills with motherly affection, even though he would never admit it to anyone.
They sit like that for about twenty minutes, as Derek gets his breathing under control and the shaking slowly stops. Stiles never takes his hands away, still petting his hair gently, whispering quiet reassurances every once in awhile, “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”
Derek settles more firmly against Stiles, practically in his lap, head tucked into his neck, other arm wrapped around his shoulders tightly, careful of his claws. As Stiles feels the tension slide out of Derek, he relaxes too, comfortable and relieved, tucking his own head on Derek’s shoulder gently.
Eventually, Stiles decides that Derek is okay enough now that he needs some answers about what the Hell just happened, and lifts his head a little, not sure how exactly to begin.
“So.”
Derek tenses and his breathing speeds up a little again.
“No, it’s okay, I just need to ask, um. Why you’re here? If I need to worry about anything, new, attacking or something.” Stiles shifts a little, feeling awkward suddenly, realizing what just happened. Derek moves back quickly, creating a space between himself and Stiles, and Stiles misses the warmth and comfort. Derek looks less scared now, and more angry, but his eyes are still wide and his body is tight with tension.
“I’m sorry,” He starts, not making eye contact, “There isn’t anything new.” He pauses, and Stiles relaxes a little bit, looking curious and concerned as he waits for Derek to continue.
Derek’s face floods with anger and shame as he continues, voice rough and shaky, “I don’t know what happened, really, I was just in the loft and I started thinking about Kate, and Peter, and suddenly I couldn’t handle it anymore, and I started running to the safest place I could think of.” The shaking comes back and Stiles reaches out unconsciously.
Stiles floods with shame, remembering the way he’s been treating Derek, thinking the worst of him, forgetting what he’s been through. Realizing how tough it must be for this poor guy, who's been through hell the last few months, fuck, the last several years. Derek shuffles back, curling in on himself defensively, and he tries to sound menacing as he chokes out, “Stop, don’t.”
Stiles does stop reaching for him, though every instinct screams for him to hug Derek and take away some of his pain. He processes the last part of Derek’s statement. This is the safest place he has? Stiles feels cold splash through his stomach. He has literally no where else to go. I’m the only person he trusts. Wait, he trusts me? Oh my God, he trusts me. Stiles feels a flutter of happiness in his chest.
Stiles is knocked out of his thoughts by a thump and realizes Derek tried to get up and head to the window, but he only fell to the floor by the bed. He looks so helpless and scared Stiles just can’t take it anymore.
“Hey, where are you going?,” He says gently, reaching down to help Derek back up onto the bed.
“First of all, don’t worry about having a hard time standing up, that happens after panic attacks sometimes, it’ll go away eventually.” He pulls Derek, unresistant, to the head of the bed, and pushes him until he let’s his head drop to the pillow.
“Second of all, there’s no way I’m letting you leave now, after that. Best case, you stumble back to the loft and spend the rest of the night alone. Worst case, you get a block away and have another panic attack, and then you’re helpless in the street in the middle of the night. You’re gonna stay right here, and sleep with me, no way in Hell am I gonna let you deal with this on your own.” Stiles lies down next to Derek, hoping he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. Derek just looks overwhelmed, and sad, and when Stiles reaches out to wrap an arm around him, his resolve seems so break and he snuggles into Stiles’ chest.
“Everything’s gonna be okay. We have a lot of stuff we need to talk about, but right now, getting you a good night’s sleep is top priority. We’ll work this all out tomorrow. Just relax.” Stiles wonders what the Hell tomorrow morning is gonna be like, but he knows it’s going to be Sunday, and his dad has to leave around six for work and won’t be back ‘till at least four, so they’ll have plenty of time.
Stiles sighs quietly, running his hand through Derek’s hair again, snuggling into him, and they are both asleep in minutes.