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Tonight, it’s the sight of raging flames and the sound of a shotgun that jerk Derek back to consciousness. Sweat clings to his skin as a needy whine leaves his throat.
“Sourwolf?”
Derek whines again, curling around the solid, lithe body that cocoons him with warmth. It feels real. He really hopes this is all real.
“Hey, you’re safe, big guy. Come here…that’s it. I’ve got ya.”
*
A few hours later, Derek wakes up to the scent of salt and fear tingeing the air while restless legs dig into his calves.
“Stiles?”
A scared whimper reaches his ears, and Derek turns onto his side to place a gentle hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He squeezes ever so slightly.
“It’s okay. Come on, open your eyes.”
The moment Stiles finally does, he inhales sharply and presses his wet face against Derek’s chest.
Eventually, they wait for Stiles’ breaths to even out. Eventually, they both sit up in bed because there’s no way in hell they can go back to sleep.
Derek pulls Stiles closer and waits patiently. Stiles sags against Derek before he looks down at their intertwined fingers. He squeezes Derek’s hand.
“C-can you count with me?”
“Yeah, of course.”