Stiles sat at his desk, and opened his laptop. The nogitsone had left his body, and it was the first time he could feel textures and hear noises for himself. He was himself again, but he was confused by it. Something was pounding the roof, dripping and smacking droplets against his window. A loud clap could be heard in the distance followed by a bright flash of light.
'I know this….this is a thunderstorm.' Stiles thought to himself. He relaxed his body a little bit. He always liked thunderstorms, the air was tense and muggy, but when the storm hit, the release was there. By the time everyone woke after the rain, it smelled like fresh grass and creeks.
Stiles began to type his homework for history. He was doing research on the American revolution when a loud clap of thunder made him tense and jump. He closed his eyes and stood up, walking softly over to his window. Stiles felt his feet squish on the carpet as he walked, felt the soft texture of each thread. Felt his pajama bottoms slip ever so slightly down his hips as he walked. He hadn't realized how much weight he had lost and how frail he looked. He gripped the smooth metal latch and unlocked it, then raised the frame a little to let in the fresh air of the storm. He padded back to his desk and looked around his room, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. He was safe again, a feeling he thought he would never know again. His stomach began to itch, and Stiles lifted the hem of his tee-shirt to scratch it, but thought better of it. The gash the nogitsone left on him was still present and itchy as hell. Deaton had given him a salve to put on the gash instead of scratching it open.
Stiles walked over to his bathroom, enjoying the feel of the smooth hallway hardwood under his feet in contrast to the soft texture of his carpet. He flipped the light on and pulled his shirt up as he began to gently remove the bandage from the gash. He pulled gingerly at the wrappings, the pain making him wince as the skin was tugged loose from the sticky bandage tape.
Derek could smell the storm as it rolled in earlier that day. He could smell the wet air, and feel the pressure change before the clouds even appeared. He knew that they had defeated the nogitsune, but Derek still felt uneasy. He still felt like he was losing a game of chess which he was unaware he was even playing. Derek shook his head, splashing the water droplets from his face and hair as he watched over Stiles. His wolf whimpered from inside of him, Comfort him, Claim him, help him! Derek simply closed his eyes and buried the wolf and the urges deeper in his chest. He watched Stiles stand up from his desk, open the window and leave from Derek's line of sight. Derek shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets as he decided what to do. The knots in his stomach and uneasy feeling won, and Derek leapt to the roof, searching for signs of Stiles. He blue beta eyes darted around the room searching for a heat signature, and in his desperation he sniffed at the air in proximity to the window. He was measuring Stiles' scent to make sure he was still in the house.
Derek was so sidetracked by looking for Stiles, he hadn't noticed that the power had gone out, making him very uneasy. He opened the window further and landed almost silently inside of Stiles' room, his shoes slushing with water log as he landed.
Stiles was still applying the salve when the lights flickered out. His whole body tensed and he felt as though he was buried inside of himself again. Stiles finished what he was doing, and then wrapped a new bandage around his torso, dropping his tee-shirt over it. His honey brown eyes were wide with tension and his body was alert.
"Sti-les" A voice called to him through the darkness, echoing his name in two syllables. "Sti-les…" The voice echoed his name again. He turned his back to the doorway, thinking the voice was in the bathroom with him. Stiles arms were stretched in front of him, feeling the environment, trying to guide himself. He felt smooth fingertips graze his neck as though someone was behind him. He heard laughter and whipped around to face the door again, but kept quiet. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he could see small patches of light in his room as the lightning struck, highlighting a figure standing in the dark in front of him. The broad shoulders and back were facing him, tight muscles and strong body were visible through the wet clothing. The dark hair was soaked and shaggy looking.
"De-der-Derek?" Stiles called out softly for the older man through the darkness, his voice barely audible to himself between thunderclaps. The dark form turned swiftly around to face Stiles and he sighed in relief as he was met with the blue eyes of Derek Hale. The tall man rushed to Stiles and gathered the teen in his arms in a tight embrace. He rested his chin on Stiles' shoulder and let out a sigh of relief at finding the teen unharmed. Derek took a deep breath, inhaling Stiles' scent, and taking comfort that he smelled like himself. He could feel the strong muscles of the younger teen beneath his fingertips and felt as Stiles relaxed in his embrace. Derek felt Stiles breathing, felt the tightening and loosening of Stiles' abdominal muscles and felt them rub against him as the two held the hug.