Just a little oneshot in the name of Sterek. Stiles has a discomforting nightmare about a terrifying television programme and needs comforting. Read and review! Or more importantly, Enjoy!
Dirty, debris strewn floors were disrupted as Stiles launched himself down the Asylum hallway. In his wake he left a tall, disfigured man, who lurched after him unnaturally.
The walls were covered in graffiti, and the entire building was reminiscent of a horror movie. Stiles had a vague feeling that he had seen this somewhere, but he didn't have time to think.
Scratching sounds echoed through the various rooms he passed, like a thousand rats clawing their way to freedom… or a thousand fingers scraping on metal doors.
Hands reached out of slots and through windows. Grubby, emaciated fingers with yellowed nails brushed against his face, trying to grab hold of whatever they could.
As Stiles ran he couldn't help but smell the air, a heady mix of dust and ammonia with a strong undercurrent of what he thought smelled like decay. It was a metallic smell, somewhere between iron and what he imagined rust would smell like.
His pursuer was unstoppable, chasing him down the hallway, eyes focused. Stiles was terrified of the thing behind him. It's face was hideously disfigured and the sharp, pointy-as-hell looking object it wielded was indicative of how it felt of Stiles.
Stiles preferred not getting stabbed in the face.
Stiles turned another corner, the fourth in three minutes he realized.
Suddenly he wasn't being followed.
Suddenly it was quiet.
Still even.
If not for the song. And the scratching
It was upbeat and folksy, but repetitive. A higher pitched woman sang something… was that French?
A sharp clicking of heels brought Stiles to watch the Hallway in front of him. For minutes it seemed as though the heels were coming, only growing louder and louder…
And then a black robed figure emerged from the hallway. The figure spun around, revealing a habit and a chalk-white face with black eyes.
The nun raised a finger to her lips and "shushed" him audibly. Stiles turned to run in the other direction, only to run straight into the face of evil.
He screamed as the man stabbed at his eyes.
"Stiles!"
Stiles was screaming and flailing on the bed, beating the living fuck out of Derek in the process.
"Stiles, it's okay hey baby it's okay!" Derek began, trying to calm Stiles.
Stiles was wide awake and extensively disoriented. Derek could tell that he was beyond hysterical at the moment.
Knowing few other things would help, Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles.
Stiles jerked around at first, but soon began to relax. His muscles slackened and he stopped trying to punch Derek.
Stiles slowly turned around to face Derek, looking visibly relieved to see him.
"You had a nightmare. It's 4:43 am. You need to go back to sleep."
Stiles remarked, and not for the last time, that even gentle Derek was sterner than a school teacher. Or a nun.
Stiles visibly shook and leaned in closer to the werewolf. Derek, despite his overtly prickly nature, was really a big softie. He also secretly gave the best hugs, and it was a well hidden fact that Derek loved cuddling. Stiles sighed and he pushed himself into Derek's form, trying to forget the unpleasant dream.
"Nuns are scary. But it's always that damn Bl-"
"Yeah, we are done watching AHS." Judge Derek had laid down the law.
"But it's so gooooood!" Stiles whined. He genuinely loved the television show, with its unique plot lines, layered characters, demented cinematography, and sheer awesomeness.
It also scared the living daylights out of him.
"This is the third night you've woken up screaming."
"Is not." Stiles replied defiantly, regardless of the truth.
Derek merely held onto Stiles tighter.
He loved the young man, but he could be a handful sometimes. Especially when scared.
Derek had to wonder if he was the slightest bit masochistic, watching a scary movie or tv show and then waking up in the wee hours of the night screaming about bloody murder head or cube face or something.
Loud Meadows? What was that damnable video game Stiles loved?
Derek sighed and nuzzled into Stiles neck. Of all the things Stiles could be legitimately scared of, he chose the fictional ones to be afraid of.
As opposed to the real monster in his bed.