This takes place during the elevator scene in episode 3x10, the Overlooked. It's the same scene, I guess, just with more Sterek and more of what might've been going on in Stiles' mind. Thanks for reading!

The elevator doors open and his world stops. Everything freezes. Nothing else matters. Because his entire universe, his atmosphere, the air he needs to breathe is laying unconscious on the filthy elevator floor.

And he doesn't know. He doesn't know if Derek's okay. He doesn't know what happened. He doesn't know if he wants to know what happened. The only thing he knows is if Derek is as dead as he looks, laying there on the ground, then Stiles will never be okay ever again.

So he runs to Derek's side and drops to his knees and is screaming his name and shaking him, begging him to wake the fuck up because Stiles needs to see those gold-green eyes peek through those dark brown lashes and look at him like he was the world because to Stiles the man laying on the floor was his world, his universe and if he didn't wake up…

No. No, Stiles couldn't think like that. Not now, not here. He had to focus he had to…oh god, but what if Derek didn't wake up? What if Stiles never saw those eyes that could light up a room, or heard his voice say "I love you" ever again? What if…what if…no, no Derek would be fine because Derek is always fine. He would be fine. Right?

"Derek?!" Stiles' pleads echoed off the walls of the hospital and rang in his own ears. "Derek come on!"

He could feel hot, heavy tears burning his eyes but he wiped them away with the back of his hand because he had to be strong. This time, it was his turn to be strong. Shaking him wasn't helping in the slightest, so Stiles placed his hand against Derek's cheek. His skin was hot and the touch Stiles once craved now burned like fire but he had to ignore the flames for now because he had to bring Derek back to him. Stiles hit his hand against Derek's cheek harder, and harder until his forehead was dotted with sweat and he couldn't find his breath but then again that could be as much from the panic as it is from slapping Derek so hard.

"Wake up Derek." Stiles pleaded. "Wake up. Fuck, okay, Derek look at me. Please wake up. Come on. Derek come on please…please wake up!

Stiles looked at his hand, red and raw and shaking violently. He looked at Derek, his cheek as red as Stiles' hand. He looked peaceful…but right now Stiles didn't want peaceful he wanted Derek so he balled his hand into a fist and took a deep, shaky breath. He swung his fist down as hard as he could with his eyes screwed shut and his lip quivering and just as he was about to make contact…

Stiles opened his eyes and looked down and the world almost started turning again. Derek held Stiles' wrist just inches away from his face. His eyes were wide and he was breathing heavily and he was staring at Stiles in complete disbelief but Stiles couldn't give less of a shit because Derek was awake and okay and he came back. He came back. He came back to Stiles.

Stiles let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He let the tears flow freely. He let out a heart-wrenching sob that wracked through his entire being and echoed off the walls like his screams did mere minutes ago.

"Stiles?" Derek asked, his voice like an anchor to keep Stiles sane. "Stiles, what happened?"

"Are you—you're okay right? Tell me you're okay, please say you're okay." Stiles pleaded, his eyes searching Derek's face for clues. Derek nodded.

"I'm okay." He said. "I'm okay." And just like that the earth turns. Just like that the moon glows. Just like that the sun burns. Stiles is kneeling on the ground next to the man who helps him breathe and just like that…everything will be okay.

Stiles' lip quivered as he forced a smile and a laugh that quickly turned into a sob. Derek wrapped one arm around him and pulled him to his chest, telling him over and over that he really was okay.

"I-I-I thought you were—"

"I'm not."

"And then I thought I was gonna have t—"

"You won't."

"I was… I mean I thought you were gonna—"

"I'm not. I'm not gonna leave you. I won't."

Stiles looked at Derek and Derek stared at Stiles like he was the world. Stiles felt the corners of his mouth turn up as he allowed a small smile to flash across his face before he solidified the mask that hid the pain and the fear and the sadness. He resorted to sarcasm to try and further the façade.

"Don't ever do that again you dick." He said, his voice cracked and small.

Derek smiled gently, warming the atmosphere by simply being there. "Okay." He whispered, just loud enough for Stiles to hear.

"No, I mean it. Because if you scare me like that again I'm gonna—" Stiles paused and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "I'm gonna—" he furrowed his eyebrows and looked down, trying to will the tears away but he couldn't so he let them fall onto the toes of his shoes and then he watched them fade away until there was nothing but the black material of his Nikes.

"Hey." Derek said softly, tilting Stiles' head up with his fingers. "Stop. It's okay. I'm okay. And I'm not leaving you."

Stiles licked his chapped lips. He could taste the salt from his tears and he willed himself to keep it together. "Promise?" he asked, his voice softer than he anticipated.

Derek nodded earnestly, keeping his eyes locked with Stiles'. "Promise."

Stiles buried his head in Derek's chest, inhaling and taking in every part of what made Derek who he is. He closed his eyes and tried to make a mental map of it, learning and memorizing it over and over.

It was here, in this man's arms that Stiles felt safe and good and protected. When he was here, he could breathe easy. When he was here the world turned. When he was here the moon glowed. When he was here the sun burned. When he was here, he was okay.