Title: Flash and Bang Ways
Disclaimer: Teen Wolf is owned by Jeff Davis, and other associated parties. I do not make any profit from this story and the plot is purely fiction.
Summary: D/S, slash, set after 2x04, Stiles has never liked thunder storms.
Rating: PG
Warnings: thunder storms, panic attack, comfort, loneliness, pack, belonging.
Pairings/Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Sherriff Stilinski, Scott McCall, Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey, Boyd.
Word Count: ~2K
Author's Note: I got this idea after reading another fic and it got me thinking about what Stiles life would have been like after his mother died and I realized that he would most likely have been all alone in that big house with his father constantly drowning himself in either alcohol or work. He knows what it means to be truly alone. This is pre-slash if you look hard enough. It can be taken either way. Everyone says Derek is the one who needs a hug, but Stiles does as well. His life is starting to fall apart around him at the moment, so give Stiles some love people. XD
xXx
It's stupid really. He should have more control of it, of this stupid irrational fear. And yet no matter how much he tries to fight it, he can always feel his chest getting tight, his throat closing, breathing labored and he knows he will never have control over this.
"What?!" Stiles asks softly, fully aware that his father is downstairs, unaware of Stiles' nighttime visitor.
"You heard me," Derek growls.
"Oh, I got the part about you sending the pack patrolling to try and catch the Kanima. That doesn't explain why you're here though," Stiles says, eyeing Derek where he's taken Stiles' computer chair.
Instead of saying anything, Derek stands and sprints to the closet, disappearing behind the door. A few seconds later, his dad knocks on the door. "Hey, I'm heading out for a few hours. It looks like there's gonna be a storm so if you head out, be careful," his dad says.
Stiles can only nod numbly and listens as his father goes back down the stairs and out the front door. There still has been no word on whether his dad is getting his job back and it makes the guilt inside him twist tighter with each day that passes.
As the sound of his dad's car fades away, Derek reemerges from the closet. Derek scowls at him. "I'm here in case the Kanima attacks. You are the weakest member of the pack and the person controlling the Kanima has shown he's willing to kill by himself if he must," Derek says.
Stiles sighs loudly and glares pointedly at Derek but he still doesn't say no. "Fine, you can go raid the fridge if you want, but try not to make a mess or be around when my dad returns. I'm going to bed," Stiles says, turning away from Derek to start shutting his computer down and getting some clothes out to change into.
When he turns around, Derek is gone and he's glad. Quickly changing, he shuts off the light and crawls under the blanket. He is tired, despite all the restless energy he can feel under his skin. He's been running on fumes the last few days and he just needs to crash. He falls asleep fast.
The first big rumble has him jerking out of his sleep. It draws out, loud enough that the windows shake. He can hear the rain on the roof. His room is empty of Derek and he wonders if the Alpha has left already or is hiding downstairs.
There's another flash and Stiles flinches, bracing for the next rumble. He can feel it already, the gradual tightening in his chest, his heart picking up. Gritting his teeth, Stiles lies back down, tugging the blanket almost over his head, curling in on himself.
He breathes deeply and evenly, trying to control the panic that wants out. He tries to think about anything: Lydia's smile, Scott and Allison's adorableness, classwork, lacrosse, Derek, the Kanima, anything to take his mind off the storm raging overhead.
Another flash brightens his room and the thunder seems to be inside his room, in his head and chest, shaking his very bones. He can't keep the small noise from escaping his throat. He burrows under his blankets, pushing the pillow over his head, trying to block the noise. Another rumble and his chest is even tighter and it's getting harder to breath.
Derek frowns from his perch on the stairs. He can hear Stiles shifting about upstairs, his heart a little faster than it had been when he was asleep. It's only been about an hour since the teen fell asleep. There's another rumble of thunder and he hears Stiles' heart pick up, stuttering slightly.
Derek pushes off of the stairs, glancing up to where he can see Stiles door. Another rumble, this one louder than the others and he hears a soft cry. He walks up almost to the top of the stairs and he listens. Stiles' breathing has picked up, hitching like his lungs are straining to draw in air. His heart is racing faster than it should be.
He opens the door silently and he can make out the lump that is Stiles huddling under the blankets. Frowning harder, Derek walks over to the bed. "Stiles," he says softly. The lump jerks in surprise.
"Go away," he hears, muffled through the blanket and pillow.
"Are you afraid of thunder?" Derek asks.
"N-," another rumble, "No!" Stiles says, voice hitching.
Sighing softly, Derek slips off his jacket and boots. Grabbing a fist full of blanket, he tugs up and slips under to the sound of Stiles' shocked squawk. "What the hell are you doing?" he demands as Derek gets comfortable under the blanket.
"Just go to sleep," Derek says, shifting the teen until his back is pressed up against Derek's chest.
Stiles wiggles, trying to break Derek's grip. "I said go away, not come into my bed. What the hell are you doing here anyways?" Stiles babbles.
"Damn it Stiles, just shut up and go to sleep," Derek growls, tightening his grip around Stiles waist and chest until the teen stops moving. There's another flash and a rumble and Stiles jumps, his hand grabbing at Derek's arm, clutching at it in a death grip as his heart picks up.
"You're safe, Stiles. I won't let anything happen to you," Derek murmurs. Prying Stiles' fingers off of his arm, he laces their fingers together, squeezing Stiles' hand gently. Stiles' breathe stutters in his chest and he grips Derek's hand tighter, pressing back into Derek's embrace.
Derek can see his eyes clenched shut, bottom lip clamped in his teeth as he fights his own body from giving into the fear. "Breath with me, Stiles," Derek says and exaggerates his own breathing, feeling his chest press harder against the teen's back as it expands.
Stiles does, breathing shakily through his nose. They breathe in sync for the next few minutes until the next rumble comes through, not as loud and a lot shorter. The storm is starting to pass. Stiles jumps at the noise, but he keeps his breathing from deviating too much.
Derek lays there with Stiles for what feels like hours, but what is only about an hour. He can hear Stiles' breathing getting slower, the teen exhausted from his panic attack and the last few days. The storm has passed by the time he slowly extracts himself from Stiles limp grip.
He can hear Stiles' father's car turning into the driveway and he slips out of the bed, grabbing his jacket and boots and hiding in the closet. He listens as the man trudges up the stairs and stops at his son's door. He doesn't come in, just listens to Stiles' easy breathing. Derek can hear the man sigh heavily as he closes the door and goes to his own room.
Fishing for his phone, he sees he has a missed text from Scott. All clear. Jackson still at his house. Hasn't left all night. Don't think anything is going down tonight.
Scott is probably right, but it's still better to be cautious. Keep watch for a while longer and if he doesn't move, then pull out and head back home. Tucking his phone away, Derek steps out of the closet and slips back under the blanket again. Stiles doesn't wake, only turning towards him slightly in his sleep. Derek sighs and pulls the teen closer, drawing aimless patterns on Stiles' arm. He falls asleep soon after to the soft patter of rain on the roof and Stiles' even breathing.
Derek is gone when Stiles wakes. His dad is sitting at the table, breakfast in front of him and Stiles doesn't have the heart to berate him for the sausage links that are next to his toast with jam. It's a Saturday which means no school.
"Morning dad," Stiles says, pulling a bowl of cereal closer.
"Morning," his dad says back. "Any plans?"
"Hmm, oh, I'm gonna see if I can pry Scott away from Allison's mouth long enough to hang out," Stiles says absently and his dad chuckles.
"I remember being like that with your mom," he says fondly. "We were nearly inseparable for a while there."
"Dad, I love you and all, but I really don't need to know about you and mom's love life," Stiles says, though he smiles and his dad smiles back, seeing through the lie easily. He loves hearing of these little glimpses of his mom. It's almost like, for a second, she's still with them.
"Well, I've got to go, kiddo. I've got some people to talk to," his dad says.
"Is it about your job?" Stiles asks softly, not looking up.
His dad is quiet for a moment. "Yeah," he finally says.
"I'm sorry, dad. I never…I never meant for this to happen," Stiles gets out, feeling choked up.
"I know son," he says.
Stiles still doesn't look up as his dad heaves himself out of his chair and out the door. The house feels empty without him there. Shivering, Stiles grabs his bowl and quickly rinses it out. Grabbing his keys, Stiles locks up the house and heads out.
It takes him two tries to find the pack. He tries the train station first, but it's empty. So he heads for the forest, taking the short route to the turn off to the Hale property. It doesn't take him long to get there. Scott's bike is there, as is Derek's Camaro.
Pulling his jeep up, he gets out and listens. There's the sound of an impact and a growl and Stiles heads east, following the noise of fighting. He walks into a clearing where Scott is wrestling with Boyd, the larger teen under Stiles' best friend.
They look up briefly at Stiles arrival before going back to what they were doing. Erica and Isaac are off to the side, talking about something and Derek is closest to where Stiles is standing. Derek pushes off of the tree where he's leaning and walks over to where Stiles is standing uncertainly. He's not sure how to act after last night.
"Everything all right?" Derek asks softly, coming up to stand beside him, watching the fight.
Stiles nods, "Yeah." He clears his throat. "Thanks, for last night."
"Erica, Isaac, your turn," Derek snaps out. "There's no need for thanks," he answers, just as softly. Scott and Boyd pull off each other and go to collapse against a fallen log, breathing heavily as Erica and Isaac start to circle each other.
They stand in silence, watching the new match. Finally, Derek calls a halt to the fight. "All right, laps. You know where to and back," he says to a chorus of groans, but they do as told, quickly trotting out of the clearing.
"Laps, really?" Stiles asks with an arched brow.
"They need to build up their stamina. They're pups, this is how pups get stronger," Derek says evenly.
"Don't let Scott hear you calling him a puppy. He'll get all mopey," Stiles says with a laugh.
"Why are you afraid of thunder?" Derek asks completely out of left field.
Stiles stumbles to a halt from where they had been walking further into the clearing. Stiles sighs. He knew this was coming, but he had hoped. "You don't have to tell me, but I'm just curious," Derek says and he seems genuinely curious, like he can't imagine Stiles being afraid of a little noise.
"I never liked thunder storms as a child. My mom used to stay with me during them. She helped keep me calm. And then she died and she wasn't there and it just made them worse. Dad was never home, always at work making ends meet and trying to keep it together. He never noticed," Stiles says softly, not looking at Derek.
"I started to have panic attacks soon after. The doctors said it was the shock of losing my mom at such a young age. That is would fade with time. I never told them about my panic attacks during storms. And I just…" Stiles fades off, trying to find the words.
"Suffered in silence," Derek supplies.
Stiles nods. "Dad tries so hard to keep us going that I didn't want him constantly worrying about me whenever there's a storm. So I've kept it from him this whole time. Even Scott doesn't know," Stiles admits.
"You know, you're not alone," Derek says. He looks up and Stiles guesses that the pack is returning from their run. "There's no need to feel alone anymore."
Before Stiles can say anything, the others stumble into the clearing, red faced and breathing hard. Derek walks over to them, leaving Stiles to stare after. He smiles a little as Derek pats Scott on the back and the teen falls forward onto the ground, too tired to remain standing. Erica, Isaac and Boyd settle on the ground, stretched out as they breathe deeply, catching their breaths. The pack is whole again.
Times goes on and so do his fears. It helps that every time there's a storm, he hears his window open and Derek slips in unannounced. The werewolf never says anything, just slips his jacket and boots off and curls up around Stiles, helping to ground the teen while he fights through his panic attack. His fears don't lessen, but it becomes easier to control them, which is more than he had before.
End