Disclaimer: See initial chapter.
Derek wakes with a start. Instinctively placing himself protectively in front of Stiles, he catalogs the familiar shadows and sounds of their bedroom, quickly sifting out what belongs from what doesn't. Stiles' soft, steady snore, the creaking of the house as it settles, the Hell cat's wheezy breathing, the she-wolf's susurration, a frantically beating heart coming from the beside the bed...
Frowning, Derek carefully rolls to the other side of the bed and peeks over the edge, searching for the owner of the heartbeat. He's ready to take out any possible danger to his family that, for whatever crazy reason, might be lurking there.
It's Thomas, holding a bedraggled looking elephant by its trunk (a treasured and much loved gift from Scott and Isaac). His eyes are shining a feral yellow in the dark, and his bottom lip is quivering. He's on the verge of tears and Stiles is on the other side of the bed, oblivious, quietly snoring the night away. Just a few moments ago, Derek had been right there with him.
There's a small part of him that wishes he was still asleep, that Thomas had gone to Stiles' side of the bed and woke his Dada instead, because Stiles is better at this. Better at giving comfort, at making things 'better', at making the monsters that nightmares dredged up go away. He'd done it often enough for Derek, soothing him back to sleep with whispered assurances and soft, settling touches.
"Hey, buddy, what's wrong?" Derek whispers, not wanting to wake Stiles in spite of his fear that he won't be able to give Thomas what he needs. That he won't be able to comfort the little boy.
In answer, Thomas lifts his arms and sniffs back a tear that falls anyway. The yellow of his eyes softens a little, reminding Derek of just how young he is, how completely vulnerable and innocent he is. He doesn't remember being that young. Doesn't remember his mother and father soothing him back to sleep after a bad dream. He didn't have many bad dreams when he was younger, though. He'd been safe and secure before his parents' deaths. Had taken the good that he'd had in his young life for granted.
Derek reaches for the little boy, whose ears are soft and furry in his partial transformation, and lifts him easily.
He's too light, Derek thinks. He has no idea how much a boy Thomas' age should weigh. He'll have to ask Deaton, or Mr. Stilinski. Stiles' father is a treasure trove of information and has been an invaluable help to them as they bumble through parenting the twins. He's a wonderful grandfather as well, and the twins love spending time with him.
He moves to place Thomas on the bed, but the boy shakes his head and clings to him, buries his face into Derek's chest.
The sound of quiet sniffles makes Derek's heart clench and his throat close up. He rests a hand on Thomas' back and starts to rock him, whispers words that he hopes will comfort the boy who's clutching a fistful of Derek's chest hair with one hand, while his other hand still has a tight hold of the stuffed elephant, Scai.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Derek croons, unconsciously mimicking a tone that Stiles often uses with the twins when they're hurt or upset. It's a tone Stiles has often used with Derek as well.
Thomas shakes his head and the whiskers on his still altered face tickle Derek's chest. Snot, from the little boy's runny nose, is smeared across Derek's chest, making him feel a little like a glorified handkerchief.
"Did you have a bad dream?"
There's a slight pause in the sniffling and a hitched breath, and then hesitant nodding. The hand gripping Derek's chest hair makes the sign for, yes.
Derek's heart sinks and he holds the little boy tighter, willing the memories that fuel these nightmares to go away. He's lived through years of nightmares and wants better for his son. Better for all of them.
"Papa's got you now," he assures the little boy, kissing the top of his head, uncertain of his words.
"I won't let anything bad happen to you." The words catch in his throat because he's already broken that promise, already failed Thomas and Ruby, his family, when those hunters came and attacked them.
Derek watches in amazement as Thomas begins to shift back into a child. The trust that the little boy is placing in him, in spite of what happened a few short weeks ago, is enough to make Derek want to be a better man and a better father. It's enough to break him and build him up.
Thomas' breathing starts to even out, the hand clutching Derek's chest hair loses some of its death grip, and Scai gets a stranglehold around his neck as Thomas hugs the stuffed animal, named after Scott and Isaac, close to his chest. Derek rearranges the both of them, getting as comfortable as he can, shifting closer to Stiles, keeping the little boy clutched to his chest, safely ensconced between the two of them - his Papa and Dada - where he belongs.
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