It seemed like hours had passed since he broke down in front of Derek in the jeep. Stiles sat staring out the window, his tears and sobs having stopped. He felt numb. And not a good kind of numb where the pain is gone, but it was the kind of numb where you just didn't have any more emotion left to spare. He'd cried it all out. Now all he felt was numb…and tired.

Stiles wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. He could still feel the soft pressure of Derek's hand on his chest drawing little circles over his heart while the other held Stiles' hand.

If this had been any other panic attack or any other situation, Stiles would have made sarcastic comments, made Derek uncomfortable until he let Stiles go, and then would have kicked the damn wolf out onto the street.

But it wasn't any other panic attack. It was a full on scary episode where Stiles had passed out. It wasn't any other situation. Stiles was sick. He was dying and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

"I know you are upset, but I really need you to say something. Anything at all," Derek whispered. His stubbly cheek brushed against Stiles' neck as he spoke. Stiles suppressed a shiver at the foreign feeling. Since when did it feel good to have someone rub their unshaven face against his neck?

Stiles considered what Derek had said, but it didn't feel right to say anything in response. He just rubbed his cheek against Derek's slightly before turning away from Derek as much as he could and closed his eyes. With the soreness in his throat and the tear stained cheeks, he was pretty sure that if he said a syllable he would break down again.

Stiles felt Derek squeeze his hand again; silently asking the boy to say something to reassure the wolf that he was still there.

Stiles bit his lower lip and shook his head. He couldn't do it. He didn't have enough water in his body to continue this way, crying at a drop of a hat. All he could do was squeeze Derek's hand as tight as he could before he moved himself away from the man.

This time Derek let him move away without a fight. Stiles disentangled his foot from the glove box and climbed out of the jeep. He left the door open knowing the werewolf would follow him out eventually. He took a moment to look at his surroundings and realized they were at the edge of the preserve near Derek's new loft.

Stiles sighed and absentmindedly kicked at a rock while stuffing his hands in his pockets. There was no point denying that Derek could tell Stiles was sick and dying. But in Stiles' mind, if he just ignored the problem, it would eventually go away…right?

Stiles moved towards a giant rock and sat down. He eyes traveled up to the sky to find that it was barely noon. How long was he out? How long had Derek held him?

Hold the phone. Why the hell was Derek holding him? Stiles' head spun towards the jeep only to find Derek sitting right next to him on the rock. Stiles did not jump at all, nor did he flinch or have a mini heart attack at the super quiet werewolf.

Derek wasn't looking at him, just staring at the trees in front of them. Stiles took a moment to really look at the man. His long sleeve shirt was wrinkled all to hell and even had holes in it. Holes that looked like teeth marks. Either Stiles' teeth were getting stronger or this was one of Derek's training shirts.

Derek slowly turned to look at Stiles. He didn't say anything, just sat there waiting for Stiles to say something. Stiles turned away quickly to stare at his shoes. Hell would freeze over before he discussed his feelings with Derek Hale. It didn't matter that the man had held him while he bawled like a four year old child. Stiles tried to suppress a shiver at the memory of his break down.

He nearly jumped when Derek got up and left him alone on the rock. Fine, leave! Stiles thought to himself as he curled his legs up against his chest and rested his chin on his knees. No sooner had he wrapped his arms around his legs did he feel a heavy fabric fall over his shoulders.

Stiles glanced up in surprise as Derek crouched in front of him, wrapping the werewolf's leather jacket loosely around Stiles' shoulders. Derek locked eyes with Stiles for a split second before the werewolf sat next to Stiles, his shoulder touching Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles pulled the jacket tighter around himself as he stared off into space again. He wasn't one to usually like silence, but he was suddenly glad that it was Derek that had found him. If it had been Scott or Erica or even Boyd, they would have badgered Stiles until he told them everything they wanted to know so that they'd just leave him in peace. Derek didn't say a word. He just sat there waiting patiently.

After a while, Stiles felt himself nodding off. His body was already stressing due to the panic attack and several crying fits, so it was natural for his body to be fatigued. He turned towards Derek and whispered, "Drive me home, please?"

Derek touched Stiles' hand closest to him before standing up. He reached out a hand to help Stiles stand before leading the teen back to the jeep. After Stiles was buckled up and wrapped cozily with the leather jacket across his lap, Derek drove him home. The jeep had barely pulled out of the parking spot before Stiles' eyes shut for a nap.

When Stiles opened his eyes next, he found himself being carried bridal style up to his room. Derek didn't even look like he had broken a sweat when he laid Stiles onto the bed.

Stiles knew he should feel embarrassed. Derek and he didn't even get along, so why the hell was he being nice to Stiles? Oh yeah. The dying thing. Stiles guessed it would even make Jackson be nice to him. He ignored that thought and watched as Derek pulled off Stiles' shoes. Stiles would have protested had he enough strength to even sit up, but he didn't so the big bad Alpha werewolf took off Stiles' shoes and helped him under the covers to take a nap.

As Stiles shifted slightly to get his head at the right angle on the pillow, he noticed Derek just staring at him. It looked like the werewolf was having some kind of internal struggle the way his face was scrunched up tighter than usual. Was Derek going to leave? Did Stiles want him to?

Stiles didn't know anymore. He just closed his eyes and shut out the world. So maybe he could just sleep the rest of his life away? It wasn't until he felt the bed sinking near his feet that he knew the werewolf wasn't leaving his side. He opened an eye to see the werewolf sitting facing the wall, the leather jacket in his hands. Stiles shrugged and closed his eyes again.