This takes place somewhere after the end of 3B, but before season 4 of Teen Wolf. This has been running around my head a lot. For right now, it's just a one-shot, but if you guys like it, I might write another chapter or two!
[Scotty] Mom made waffles for breakfast. You should come over and have some.
Stiles smiled a little at the text. Mama McCall did make the best waffles, but he had a feeling that wasn't the reason Scott was inviting him over. It was no secret that Stiles hadn't been eating much after the Nogitsune fiasco, and his best friend was probably inviting him over in an effort to keep Stiles from starving to death. He appreciated it, but he also wasn't entirely sure that he deserved it. Still, Stiles quickly sent a reply back.
[Stiles] Gimme like 20 min. Shower, then I'll come.
[Stiles] You better not eat all the waffles before I get there
He dropped is phone on his bed and got up to go take what he intended to be a quick shower. Of course, nothing was ever so simple for the token human of the McCall pack. Somehow, his thoughts found their way to his time possessed by Void. He closed his eyes as he tried to block the flashes of memories of the people he was forced to kill, and the blood—so much blood. When he opened his eyes, he yelped when he saw red on his hands. Blood. There was blood on his hands. His breathing kicked up and his hands started shaking. Everything got blurry as he fell to the floor of the shower.
Stiles curled up in a ball at the end farthest from the shower head, still getting sprayed by the water. He struggled to breathe through the panic attack and tears started streaming down his face. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, but the water eventually started running cold, so it had to have been quite a while. Stiles still didn't get up, even as he was pelted with icy water. He looked up when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. "Scott?" he replied faintly.
It had been over an hour since Stiles texted him, and Scott was admittedly freaking out a little-a lot. After forty-five minutes, he started the inward debate of whether or not he should go check on his best friend. Stiles could have easily just gotten distracted. It wouldn't have been the first time. But after an hour, Scott knew something was wrong. He could feel it in his chest. There was an uneasy pressure there, and he just- he knew. Stiles would have let him know by now if he'd gotten caught up doing something, or just plain forgot.
So Scott grabbed his keys and helmet and rode his motorcycle over to Stiles' house. Immediately, Scott felt something off. He opened the door, not bothering with knocking. Stiles had given him a key long ago for situations like this. "Stiles? Hey man, it's-" Scott was overwhelmed with the stench of fear and anxiety that assaulted his nose. He was already making his way to the stairs when he heard the water running. "Stiles? Where are you, man?" When he heard his name, in a frail, trembling voice that should never come out of his best friend's mouth, along with ragged breathing and a pounding heart, Scott bolted up the stairs. "Stiles!"
The Alpha froze when he made it in the bathroom. He carefully pulled back the curtain and felt his heart breaking at the sight of Stiles, huddled in the corner, shaking. "Stiles," he repeated gently. "Stiles, you okay?" The only sort of reply he got was Stiles shaking his head while he made a valiant attempt at breathing. Scott reached over and turned the water off, shocked when he felt the freezing temperature. He crouched down at the side of the shower and slowly put his hand out. "I'm gonna touch you, okay?" He waited until the small nod of consent before putting his hand on Stiles' shoulder. He knew Stiles got agitated easily when like this, and didn't want to make it worse by shocking him with the sudden touch. Stiles was freezing, and that made Scott worry all the more. The cold water probably hadn't helped his breathlessness any. "Can you stand?" he asked softly. Stiles shook his head weakly. Scott leaned into the shower and wrapped his arms around his friend, not bothered by the fact that he was naked. He carefully lifted Stiles up and carried him to his bed.
In the next few minutes, Scott quickly dried Stiles off as best he could and slid a pair of boxers on him before wrapping the covers around him. Scott sat on the bed next to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, but didn't get too close. He didn't want Stiles to feel crowded. His best friend continued to shake, and the True Alpha felt completely helpless. He paused, about to ask what happened, when he heard Stiles muttering something. "What? Stiles, say that again." Scott leaned closer.
"Talk," Stiles repeated in a hoarse voice. "Please."
Scott bobbed his head. Talk. He could do that. He wasn't as great at coming up with things to fill the silence as his best friend was, but he could sure as hell try for Stiles. "Don't hate me, but I kinda ate all the waffles," Scott said, saying the first thing that came to mind. He smiled brightly when he heard choked laughter. "They were really good, too. You missed out." He didn't say anything else for a few minutes, not sure what to say.
"You're gonna be okay, Stiles," he promised quietly.
Stiles looked at him with eyes full of doubt. "How?"
"Because you still got me. All this craziness and you've still got me." When Stiles still didn't look convinced, Scott sighed. "I'm Scott, you're Stiles. We've been best friends since kindergarten. We've been with each other through everything: divorce, death, crushes, middle school, werewolves—" Scott put particular emphasis on that, because he could never express enough how grateful he was to Stiles for helping him through this. "We're going to finish high school together. We'll go to college together, be at each other's weddings. We'll be there for each other when we have kids. It's you and me, Stiles. Always." At some point, Scott had wrapped his arm around Stiles' shoulder. "We'll get through this, too, Stiles. Just like everything else."
A rapid heartbeat slowed down, and Stiles' breathing evened out. His eyes were full of tears from Scott's words. He snaked one hand out from the cocoon Scott had put him in and grabbed the hand on his shoulder. Scott smiled for a moment, before realizing that he could feel pain in the touch.
"Stiles. . . What's wrong?" he demanded, quickly moving so he was crouched in front of Stiles, looking him over.
Stiles frowned in confusion. "What're you talking about, Scottie?"
Scott took Stiles' hand in both of his. "You're in pain, I can feel it. What happened?"
"Oh. . ." Stiles looked away and bit his lip for a moment. "Nothing happened, 's fine."
"Stiles—"
"Remember that dull ache I told you about?" Stiles interrupted quietly. He met Scott's eyes again, and Scott was shocked by how tired his friend looked.
"I- Yeah, vaguely."
Stiles nodded, like he expected this answer. "It never really went away." He pulled his hand back and started bunching his covers together, then unbunching it, and bunching them again. "It's not a big deal, I've gotten used to it," he mumbled.
"What do you mean, you've gotten used to it?! Why didn't you tell someone? Your dad, my mom, me?" Scott didn't realize how loud his voice got until Stiles recoiled. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, to quell the panic, the anger at himself from not seeing it sooner. "Where does it hurt?"
"Kinda, sorta. . everywhere. I don't know if it's from not sleeping, or not eating enough, or just from the constant state of panic over the past few months. . ." Stiles trailed off and bit his lips together.
Scott sighed and slowly uncurled the fingers of one or Stiles' hands, until it was free of the blanket. He held it between his own and black veins bulged under his skin. Stiles made a sound of protest in the back of his throat and tried to tug his hand out of Scott's far-too-strong grasp.
"Scott—"
Eyes flashed red for just a second, but it was long enough to silence any argument. "Let me help you," Scott said in a gentle, but commanding voice. Stiles nodded after a moment and let his head hang tiredly. Scott stood, still holding his friend's hand, and gently guided his body to a laying down position. "Close your eyes, Stiles. Try and get some sleep," he said, sitting next to Stiles again.
It wasn't that the pain was so intense, but that it was bone deep. It wasn't any wonder, now, why Stiles didn't get much sleep. As if the nightmares weren't bad enough. It didn't take long for his best friend's eyelids to start drooping. Stiles was fighting sleep, that much was obvious. "It's okay," Scott promised. "I'll be right here when you wake up." Stiles entire body seemed to melt into the mattress at the promise. How had Scott not noticed the constant tension in his muscles?
Some best friend I turned out to be.
"I'll be right here," Scott said again, knowing that Stiles wouldn't hear him.
Like I said, not planning on writing any more for this. If you want more, like, favorite, comment or shoot me a message! If enough people are interested, I might do more. Thanks for reading!
