A/N: This is inspired by the Tyler/Dylan on a ship video and based upon Stiles and The Sheriff's hug scene. Set somewhere in chaos of everything after 2x04.
Life has been chaotic for Stiles as of late. He's had very little time to relax and even less to talk about that night. He had to lie to his dad about it, the mechanic's death, because there's no way he could tell him about the Kanima. It was the first wedge between them, lying about Derek didn't count because the bag guy died and everyone ended up safe. But the mechanic, that was the biggest lie Stiles ever told, worse than the whole werewolf thing. The worst part is, in between trying to get the bestiary, saving Derek, protecting Lydia and stopping Jackson, Stiles has never had the time to completely register what happened. Scott was more concerned about the Kanima, as he should have been, and frankly Stiles hadn't wanted to talk about any of it. So he didn't, to anybody. When Derek questioned him about the Kanima before they were attacked, Stiles allowed his mind to ignore the thoughts of the mechanic. He forced himself to concentrate on what the Kanima looked like and nothing else. He ignored all lingering thoughts of it all, all day with the help of his Adderall. But medication can't help you fight the demons which enter your dreams. He had nightmares daily or nightly or whatever. He'd wake up screaming silently into his pillow, forcing himself to stay in bed and not crawl over to his dad to cry. He couldn't call Scott because it wasn't right to ruin the only time him and Allison had as of late. And that was it. The two people Stiles relied on for his panic attacks couldn't be there for him. So he just cried himself to sleep and blasted the music on his itouch, pressing his earphones into his ears in an attempt to drown out the voice and the image.
He was walking around the woods, it was night time. His cell long forgotten somewhere, he dragged his feet forward heading somewhere. The sunlight seemed to rise slowly and he wondered where exactly he'd traveled to on his walk. He didn't remember leaving his house or car or anything really. His feet pulled him forward, slowing only when he reached a dirt road. He turned slightly towards the right, a deep voice speaking in between grunts and sighs. He walked towards it, the numbness fluttering out of his heart to be replaced by another feeling Stiles couldn't describe. He approached the man talking on the phone with black shades covering his eyes. As he got closer, he realized who it was. Derek. Normally he would curse himself and try to make a get away or start thinking of something to tell the alpha, but he couldn't. His brain just wasn't working properly and he was desperate for someone to talk to, even if that someone would threaten to rip his throat out. At least he could tell someone how he felt, let himself fall apart in front of someone. He didn't care what Derek would say or do to him, he just needed someone. He needed someone so bad. His body began to shiver as he approached the werewolf, never once questioning why the alpha was there in the first place.
Derek tensed and turned towards him as the teen approached him. Stiles was in too much pain to take caution and pause, he just kept moving towards Derek. The alpha spoke into the phone watching him, the hardened look on his face softening. Stiles reached him, finally, his feet wavering underneath him. He moved his arms out slightly and opened his mouth to ask for something Stiles knew the answer to. Before he could stutter the words out, Derek gave him a slight nod and lifted his other arm up welcoming Stiles to hug him. Tears filled his eyes as Stiles stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around Derek's torso, resting his head against Derek's chest. The werewolf lowered his arm onto Stiles' back and embraced him, still talking into the phone. Stiles pressed himself into Derek, unable to believe that he wasn't dreaming. He had to be. It was the only explanation for the alpha caring so much about him. Derek hated him and made no attempt to hide it. Also, he didn't trust Stiles at all so he wouldn't just let the teen to wonder from the middle of the forest and hug him. It was impossible. But Stiles could feel it, the warmth coming from his body. He could hear the alpha's heartbeat and feel the vibrations of his voice on his chest. It was just too real and Stiles had never held Derek like this so it couldn't just be his imagination. He dug his head into the wolf's chest and inhaled, letting out a shaky breath when his brain confirmed to him that it was indeed Derek's scent.
Derek's hand moved up to Stiles' shoulder and gave him a small squeeze. Stiles leaned into the touch, tears flowing down his face. This was Derek. Derek the guy who threatened him daily and who used him without caring about the danger Stiles would get into by helping him. He showed the teen no emotion, other than anger, and never thanked him or acknowledged the fact that he helped. And yet, Derek the emotionally stunted werewolf alpha with serious issues was comforting Stiles because the teen had no one else. And who the fuck cares if it was out of pity? Stiles doesn't, couldn't care less. He needed someone to hold, someone to feel in order to know that everything was okay. That he wasn't back at the shop paralyzed watching that mechanic begging for help as Stiles' car slowly moved down over his body and crushed him. The phone call ended and Stiles prepared to be pushed away, but he wasn't. Instead he was pulled closer, Derek's arms wrapping him up in a shield of warmth. Stiles buried his head in the alpha's shoulder and let the sobs work their way through his body. Derek leaned his head against Stiles' and held him closer as if their bodies could be crushed together somehow so Derek could absorb Stiles' pain.
The phone rang and Stiles pulled his head out of the safety of Derek's body to look the alpha in the eyes. He didn't have to speak for Derek to know what he was thinking. The wolf threw his phone somewhere off into the forest, far enough away for Stiles to no longer be able to hear it. He watched as it disappeared behind trees before turning back to the werewolf. He was staring at Stiles, eyes filled with a tinge of sadness. His hand came up to wipe a tear away from the teen's face before caressing Stiles' face. Stiles stared into Derek's eyes, waiting for the moment when he would be harshly thrown aside and told never to invade the wolf's privacy again. But it never came. Instead Derek offered him a small smile and pressed a small kiss onto Stiles' forehead. Stiles closed his eyes and concentrated on calming his shaky breath. Derek rubbed his face against Stiles' burying his face in the teen's neck, his stubble leaving behind a reddish burn on Stiles' skin. Stiles held on tightly to the wolf, closing his eyes and listening to Derek's breathing.
"We'll get through this," Derek whispers, "I know because I love you." Those are the exact same words Allison told Stiles to tell Scott. Suddenly, Derek's arms are gone. Stiles snaps his eyes open worriedly. His eyes flicker around him, taking in his surroundings. He's in his room, on his bed, with a pillow held tightly against his chest. His blanket abandoned on the ground. It takes a moment for him to realize it was just a dream. And he knew it was. It had to be. He knew that, but it didn't lessen the pain or compensate for the hole which was shot threw his heart. He threw the pillow to the ground with a grunt as he sat up and ran his hands through his buzz cut hair, dragging them down over his face and tucking them under his chin.
His eyes flickered over to the Adderall on his desk. He'd taken more than enough during the day as it was, taking more would be risky and he wasn't entirely sure it would help him sleep. He stood up and walked over to the bottle and grabbed it, pouring all the pills out onto this palm before sliding them all back in nervously. He sighed and walked downstairs to the kitchen. His father kept a bottle of bourbon there. Alcohol was meant as a relaxant right? Right. Stiles grabbed it and shut himself in the room with the bottle. He stared at it before undoing the cap and taking a large gulp of it. It burned going down his throat but he felt more relaxed. He knew tomorrow he would feel guilt for drinking it and his dad would probably yell at him for having gotten drunk. But Stiles needed it because he was that desperate. And now there were two dreams haunting him. He felt warm and stood, bottle in hand, to open the window. He took another gulp as he pushed it open and leaned his head out. The sky was dark, but soon enough the sun would peak out from over the mountains and everything would be illuminated. He pulled his chair to the window and let his head rest against the cushion on the back as his eyes watched the horizon until the alcohol lulled him into a dreamless state.