"Stiles, the world is not that bad of a place," Derek said, closing the door to the flat behind them. He locked all three locks before turning back to Stiles. Stiles was in the kitchen, making coffee, but he paused with measuring the grounds when Derek came up behind him. Derek took the scoop and set it aside, pressing up behind Stiles until they were flush together. He turned him around so they were facing each other. "I know we've seen some shit, you and me, but there's so much more to the world than that." He leaned in to kiss him, but Stiles turned his head at the last moment.
"No."
"You aren't going to make me sick," Derek said. But Stiles still shook his head, turning back to the coffee. Derek stepped back, moving around the kitchen, putting their groceries away. All of the sudden, a loud banging on the door made them both freeze.
"Derek? Derek, it's us, open up." Peter. Derek went to the peephole to make sure. Sure enough, Peter and Jackson were standing their supporting Isaac between them. Derek opened the door, and Stiles was already on the phone, calling Alex.
"What happened?" Derek asked. Peter sat down on the couch, and Isaac sat next to him, eyes dull and unfocused.
"Panic attack. We were out at the park, and he saw somebody he recognized." Marley, Peter and Jackson's little dog, trotted over and whined until Jackson sat with her on the couch. A quiet knock sent Derek over to the door again. This time, he opened it for Alex. Stiles came in with cocoa and blankets.
Once Isaac was asleep, with Marley curled up with him, the five older boys gathered around the table.
"Who?" Derek asked.
"The pastor. Father Peterson. Scar on his temple, you remember him," Jackson gestured, his disgust clear. "Eyeing the children as if they were his next conquest. Isaac was running with Marley, and he just sort of froze. You know how he gets. So we brought him here." Stiles got up, jaw clenched, and stalked to the kitchen. Derek followed him, and found him crouched in the corner, his head in his hands.
"It's going to be-"
Don't tell me it'll be okay," Stiles spat. "Will it be okay for Isaac when he gets a panic attack so bad he can't think? Will it be okay that Jackson will never speak again? It will never be okay."
"I know." Derek sat down next to him, both of them with their backs against the cabinets. Peter came in with his mug, and when they looked up at him, the thin silvery scar that ran across his neck drew their eyes. Jackso had an almost identical one, but neither had to say how they got them. Peter put the mug in the sink and left. A moment later, they heard the TV turn on, and the opening music of a movie. Stiles pushed himself up and offered Derek a hand. He didn't let go right away, and Derek understood.