On Stiles's first appointment after being diagnosed, his psychiatrist (a large, burly man with a booming voice who was surprisingly gentle) told him that there would be highs and lows. Sometimes he would have good days and sometimes he would have bad, and that depression and anxiety came with the disorder so he shouldn't ever feel like a freak just because he 'doesn't have a reason' to be depressed, being the ADHD is just as a good a reason as any to feel such things. The doctor had told Stiles that some days he would be so restless that it physically hurt to stand still, and some days he would be so depressed that all he would want to do is just sleep forever. And, sometimes, on really bad days, he would feel both of those things (along with tons of other emotions) at the same time.
Yeah, well, Stiles is having a really bad day.
He wakes up irritable, feeling his thoughts race a mile a minute and just wishing to slow it down. He makes his way through his morning routine feeling a special hatred for everything. He takes his meds first thing, takes a shower, has a personal vendetta with his toothbrush, and finally practices acting like nothing's wrong in the mirror before going downstairs to greet his father.
He blocks out the rest of the school day, because it's filled with sitting impatiently in class, being forced to keep quiet and let his thoughts run as he bounces his knee restlessly. The majority of the eight hours of school are spent in silence, with only his mind to keep him company, and when he's in this sort of mood that's never a good thing.
He vaguely remembers being short with Scott a few times, but he'll have to feel bad later because right now he's finally home and the house is empty and what he really needs more than anything is some one on one time with Harley.
He gently pulls her out of the closet, sitting her on his bed while he plugs her into the outlet. Stiles sets up her stand before gingerly placing her on it. He turns the keyboard on, smiling in relief at the little click she makes. Settling into his bed, he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and starts to play.
No specific music, just anything and everything. Everything he's ever learned all jumbled together in organized chaos. He starts with scales, fingers moving nimbly up and down the keyboard. Five-four-three-two-one-three-two-one-three-two-one-three-two-one-three-two-one, all the way from D to C with his left hand before going back (one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three-four-five). He does the exercise in reverse with his right hand, from C to D and back, drowning in the sound of the notes filling the air. Chords, arpeggios, majors and minors and 7s. He plays classical and modern, love ballads from the 80's and a recent Top 40 hip hop song. He plays till he loses himself amongst the loud crescendos and the staccato beats, the keyboard is his lover and his gentle keystrokes are loving touches in the adagios of their lovemaking. The music develops a more upbeat tempo, though, with louder, harder dynamics, and she is his sparring partner, the pads of his fingers beating down upon the keys like an attack after circling each other for minutes.
He just plays till he feels better, not really paying attention to WHAT he's playing, when he hears something he's not used to. It's soft, relaxing, the sort of thing he's never really had an ear for himself but can still appreciate. He belatedly realizes that he's been reading the sheet music on his stand for the last minute without realizing it, and when he gets a closer look at the music, he realizes it's the sheets that Derek gave him a few months prior. Chopin's Nocturne op. 9 no. 2. Stiles wonders when he got to the point that he could play both clefs without really paying attention to what he was doing, but he's been practicing and he's always had a knack for this.
Stiles remembers no one's home, so he turns the volume on Harley up and just plays, lets the song waft through him, and he's hit with this mental image of three children smiling and dancing while their mother sways side to side as she plays at a beautiful piano with polished ivory keys, the corners of her eyes crinkling with laughter.
He gets a familiar tingly feeling, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling up, and he stops abruptly, spinning around to see Derek perched at his window. Stiles rubs sheepishly at the back of his neck, feels the familiar red burning its way up his neck to his ears the way it does when his father catches him in the middle of playing.
Derek looks as though he's seen a ghost.
"Dude, you okay?" Stiles asks after a few beats of silence. Derek breaths in deeply and nods slowly.
"You… you didn't have to stop playing." His eyes roam Stiles's face, searching for something. His eyes are wide, the light blue of his irises clear as day. Stiles blinks.
There's more silence, and he's not sure why he does it, but Stiles turns back around, rolls his shoulders, and starts from the beginning.
It's not actually very long, all the way through the song only lasts about five minutes, but it feels as though they're suspended in time. Each minute feels like an hour as Stiles's fingers gently move across the keys. Derek doesn't make a sound, and if Stiles makes a few blaring mistakes, it's like he couldn't even tell.
When he's finished, he turns around again, slowly this time, not quite sure if he's prepared to see Derek's face. The man looks like he's holding back tears and maybe it's not the best thing to do, but it feels right and today seems to be a day for rash decisions, so Stiles stands and walks over to the older man before gingerly wrapping his arms around him, because the Stilinskis are famous for their hugs and Derek looks like he needs a hug.
After a moment or two, he sort of collapses in Stiles's arms, relaxing his shoulders and burying his head in the crook of Stiles's neck, and returns the hug. Stiles definitely feels tears falling against is skin but he's not going to say anything because Derek is his bro and what his bro needs right now is an awesome manhug, not to be reminded of something the man would definitely consider a weakness (although Stiles maintains the belief that tears are totally manly).
Stiles isn't sure how long they stay like that, he just knows sitting in Derek's arms, hearing Derek's breath in his ear, is something he could definitely get used to (don't tell Derek that, though).
There IS going to be a third part to this, as I have vowed to not finish it until there is cuddles. I just don't know WHEN it will be here, and it's not necessarily on my to do list since this is technically a series, each chapter is its own oneshot, and I just put it all into one story here because it was easier.
Anyway, the point is, I'm not sure when the mancuddles are coming, just that they are, so I hope that these two chapter-ish monsters were enough to make you smile, even without the hot makeout scenes. :)