Title: Touch
Summary: Sometimes, the werewolves just needed to touch.
Rating: PG, to be safe.
Author's note: Constructive criticism is always welcome. Thank you.
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own any part of "Teen Wolf" or its affiliated materials.
Derek needed to touch. He knew it, he knew the instinct to be close to someone, anyone, would drive him mad. When he had family, when he had Laura, he had touch. He never even needed to think about it. It was always there: hugs in the morning, wrestling in the afternoon, and sleepily tangling of limbs at night. All the wolves needed it, could sense the need in the others. When they wanted to show love, they touched. When they made up after a fight, when they celebrated, it was always with touch. Always, there was touch. Even when it was just Laura and him, Derek knew he was understood. He knew she needed it as much as he did. And it had been enough, for a while. And now, he didn't even have her.
During the day, he had his mission, his revenge to focus on. Seeking vengeance was a distraction, a Gordian knot to wrestle with, to submerge his mind into. But nights, nights were agony. Nights were spent sleepless, longing to howl, to connect, to touch. Laying in the large bed, imagining his parents, sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, and aunts, all piled around him…it hurt, it physically hut. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, the echoes of memories taunting him
A lone wolf. An island. Unreachable.
Maybe that was why he was always pushing Stiles against things, grabbing him, threatening him. Maybe that's why Stiles never complained, not really. Maybe Stiles noticed how Derek would linger, noticed Derek's reluctance to move apart. And maybe that's why, one night, Stiles was just there, his arms wrapped around Derek. At night, when the hurt, the loss, the emptiness, the need to touch made Derek ache, Stiles was there, holding him, stroking his back, letting him touch, filling the emptiness.
Derek didn't know how Stiles knew. Derek didn't know why Stiles stayed. Then again, it didn't matter how or why. Derek was…grateful. He needed that touch. And he knew Stiles wouldn't ask for anything in return. And that…that alone was worth almost as much as the touch itself.
