Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1.

Can Derek just say that he understands? He does, honest. Derek understands that Stiles has a lot on his shoulders. He's been putting in so much time and effort into helping the pack bond and really become a family of sorts and he can't even begin to articulate how much that means to him. That does not mean, however, that it's okay for Stiles to neglect himself in the process.

Well, if Stiles is going to insist on ignoring his basic-human needs, then Derek will have to take care of it for him.

It also started with the goddamn siren. Idiot-Scott (his new name in Derek's mind) had taken off the protection bracelet that Deaton had given him, because of course he did, and was lured into the lake at the edge of Hale property. 

And of course, where idiot-Scott goes, idiot-Stiles follows. Apparently, Stiles had been at Scott's house when Scott felt the pull and headed out towards the lake, so Stiles, rather than calling for help like any half-intelligent person would, decided to follow him. This of course led to Idiot-Stiles trying to lug a half-coherent, fully shifted Scott out of the water while trying to avoid getting dragged in himself. 

Luckily, the colorful curse-words spewing from Stiles' mouth enabled Derek to hear the commotion and head out there before the two had drowned. He had to pull the two idiots out of the water while Idiot-Scott fought him the entire way. The only good thing about Stiles' presence was that he had had the mind to grab Scott's charm before leaving his house and was able to get it back on his wrist before he attacked one of them.

Stiles' presence also meant that he saw the younger boy soaking wet in a thin t-shirt. He tried not to stare, not wanting to make the boy uncomfortable, when Stiles decide to forego the shirt entirely. Normally, Derek would've been secretly thrilled to see the boy shirtless in non-creepy or life threatening circumstances, but not now. Not when he could see Stiles' ribs. Not when he could hear the boys stomach rumbling in hunger. Not when he could see the boy's collarbone and the outline of his hip bones. 

When the fuck was the last time the idiot ate a real meal?

"Hey! Not all of us can be big, hunking balls of muscle like you, dick wad. And! I'll have you know that I was in the middle of eating when this idiot," he said, pointing at Scott, "took his bracelet off."

Apparently Derek said that out loud. He couldn't even bring himself to regret it because he was so busy trying to calm his wolf. It was whining insistingly inside, wanting to care for the obviously underfed fucking child in front of him. 

"Whoa, okay big guy. Relax a little. I'm okay. A-Okay, yessiree. Stiles is all good."

At first, Derek didn't understand why Stiles was saying, until he realized he was actually whining, not just his wolf. But he really couldn't help himself. Stiles looked like the runt of the litter. Under fed.

"No mama to groom him or teach him how to hunt. Poor pup in his den all alone while his papa worked late. No one to feed him or watch him" his wolf helpfully added. 

While Derek has always been more in-tune with his wolf, since he was born with it rather than bitten, even for him this level of communication and persistence from it was odd. He tried to swallow down the urge to kill the nearest game to get Stiles the freshest meat he could as he recognized the oddity of it. 

Him and Stiles had grown closer than expected over the past several months, forming a friendship not many saw coming. That being said, their relationship consisted more of Stiles doing whatever he wanted or could to help the pack and Derek offering advice or assistance when needed. This sudden urge to care for and coddle him is bizarre in more ways than one.

Instead, Derek takes hold of Stiles' wrist in a solid grip and begins dragging him towards the Hale house. He absent-mindedly remembers Scott's presence. 

"Scott, I'm taking idiot-stiles here back to the house to eat before he literally dies of malnutrition right in front of us. Go do your goddamn homework and keep the fucking bracelet on, you goddamn moron." Derek growls out, speaking over Stiles indignant protests at the way Derek is handling him.

By the time they reach the house, Stiles has forgone any verbal resistance and has resorted to literally digging his heels into the ground. It's not in any way effective at doing anything besides dig up some dirt in a pathway towards the door. 

"I am perfectly capable of walking and feeding myself, Derek!"

"Apparently you're fucking not, Stiles. You're practically skin and bones."

"That's not my fault! The adderall diminishes my appetite and makes it almost impossible to gain weight, coupled with the fact that I do sports, run with wolves, and sometimes forget to eat, it's wonder I weigh anything at all."

Derek growls unhappily at this, the growl getting increasingly louder when Stiles mentions forgetting to eat.

"See, obviously you need help with this if you can't even remember to feed yourself."

"Listen asshole, maybe if we weren't constantly in a supernatural shit show, I would be more focused. Regardless, it's none of your fucking business."

"None of my business? I will not have your weakness effecting the pack! So if that means I need to follow you around and shove food down your fucking throat then so be it."

"Oh, now I'm weak? Go fuck yourself" Stiles exclaims before storming out of the pack house.

 Derek doesn't bother trying to follow, knowing Stiles is too stubborn for his own good. He also knows the idiot isn't going to go back to Scott's, where his food is, but rather his own house where there probably hasn't been food for several days due to the Sheriff's schedule. Derek gets to work.

Dropping off the food Peter helped him make is more nerve wracking than asking Peter to help. (Peter had laughed and teased mercilessly when asked, as expected. His teasing, however, did not hide the spark of concern in his eye at hearing of Stiles' condition. The two had grown closer lately, bonding over mutual snark and obscure pop-culture references.) He drops the food as gently as he can on the front stoop, knocks hard twice, and runs. He feels like an idiot but from his place next to the house he can see Stiles come to the door.

He watches as Stiles looks around, obviously trying to locate the knocker. He also sees his face when his eye catches on the dish. It's an interesting mix between indignation, amusement, and relief. Derek can hear Stiles' stomach growling from his hiding place.

Fucking idiot 

Luckily Stiles has apparently reached his quota of dumb decisions in day and grabs the dish before closing the door. Derek waits until he hears the tell-tale sounds of Stiles grabbing a plate and scooping out some of the pasta before he turns to run home.

Derek continues to do this for several days until he hears, through Isaac, that the Sheriff has taken some time off to be with Stiles.

And if he makes sure the pack keeps an eye on Stiles, reminding him to eat before taken his adderall and to bring money for lunch then well, it's his job as the Alpha to care for the pack. Plus it's his way of apologizing for calling Stiles a weakness.

Nothing more...and it certainly has nothing to do with his need to provide for his mate, definitely not.

Chapter Text

It all started with the necromancer. Of course it does. Derek will be honest, when he heard what it was, he needed to spend some time alone. He was terrified that it would go after him, he'd lost so many people. Same with Peter. What if the necromancer targeted him and they lost all progress Peter had made at forgiving? What if he brought back a twisted version of Laura? 

But he also worried about the betas. What if they brought back Boyd's sister or Isaac's father or mother or brother? He didn't think they were equipped to handle this, emotionally or physically. So he did the only thing he could.

He trained them. He trained them hard. If they weren't at school, they were at the pack house working. While Scott was still resistant to help, he understood the danger of the necromancer. It was bringing back loved ones. twisted versions who play with peoples minds and emotions to influence them to do horrible things. Putting Scott on Allison-watch definitely helped improve their Alpha-Beta relationship. He paired everyone up. Erica and Boyd, Lydia and Jackson, Allison and Scott,and Peter and Derek. 

Derek was ashamed to say that he hadn't really considered Stiles here. The human had been distant after they started this case. Derek just assumed that the Sheriff would be watching out for Stiles, having not taken into consideration the fact that the Sheriff was working the legal side of that case. He figured the Stilinski's would be watching out for each other, considering Mrs. Stilinski's death.

He was, unfortunately, wrong.

Derek can't help but notice the bags underneath Stiles' eyes at the last pack meeting. The way he remained hunched in on himself and silent as they talked about the best ways to kill the necromancers creations. Oddly enough, even though werewolf claws are enough to kill the necromancer himself, his creations need a bullet in the head to go down. This raises some difficulties as the only ones who know how to shoot are Allison, Chris, Sheriff (who will not be joining them for the kill) and Stiles (though Lydia and Deaton have been learning.)

As he watched Stiles slink out the door when the meeting was over, he had an inexplicable urge t follow him, soothe him. As Derek went to go act on these urges, however, Chris Argent calls.Apparently he's with Deaton and they noticed a spike in energy across town, they think it's the necromancer.

He tries to call out to Stiles, tell him to wait, but Stiles is already pulling out. As the jeep moves down the driveway, Derek quickly dials Stiles' number. But of course, since this is Derek and his life can never be simple, he hears Stiles' phone ring from upstairs because why wouldn't Stiles have forgotten his phone the one day Derek needs to get in touch with him?

Derek quickly calls and informs the rest of the pack, making sure to tell Scott to call Stiles' home number and tell him since Derek doesn't have it. He also makes sure to add "get Stiles' home number" to his to-do list so they can avoid this next time. He quickly grabs his leather jacket (ignoring the voice that sounds suspiciously like Stiles that's mocking him for it) and his boots. He valiantly tries to avoid thinking about the feeling deep in his stomach, telling him that somethings wrong

By the time he arrives at the address that was texted to him, Deaton, Chris, Allison, and Scott are already waiting for him and he can hear the other's arrival right behind him. He helps the Argent's hand out weapons to the humans when he realizes Stiles isn't there still.

"Scott, I thought I told you to call Stiles?"

"I did, he didn't answer. I left like forty messages, dude."

"Don't call me dude."

He quickly turns to think. He knows Stiles will be pissed if they go in without him but they also can't afford to wait. This might be their only shot.

"We'll have to go in without him, then"

"He's going to be pissed."

"Yes, thank you for informing Lydia."

"Oi, just because your boytoy didn't show up, doesn't mean you can get snappy with me."

"Christ, okay, sorry. Let's move now, please" he growls out, quickly losing patience. Luckily it seems that the rest of them can sense that as they don't try to argue at all.

Walking in is chaotic, the man has his back turned, clearly in the middle of working his magic. Deaton informed them that this would be the best time to strike as the necromancer would have to tune out most of his senses in order to focus enough to create his work. That's most likely why he chose a building several miles out of town that has been abandoned for many many years.

Derek quietly moves towards the man, leaving his betas to subdue any of his creations that may be around so the Argents have an opportunity to kill them.

Derek raises his claws, preparing to slit the mans throat when he turns, making eye contact and startling the wolf.

"Hmm. You seem to be missing someone. Hope he's having fun with what I'd like to call my parting gift."

"What did you do?" he roars out

"You'll have to go and see. Hopefully it's not too late"

Derek wastes no time in slitting the mans throat before he shifts, running out of the warehouse shouting at the pack behind him to get to Stiles' ASAP.

He feels bile rise up into his throat when he arrives at the Stilinski resident and smells the foreign tang of magic all over the property. As he nears the door, he can see her clearly.

Claudia Stilinski, a beautiful sweet woman who was always nice to him...and has been dead for several years now.

Derek remembers her, she was always fair. He remembers how she used to bring cookies to the house and the scent of sadness that had clung to Talia the weeks following her diagnosis and her subsequent death. He doesn't remember young Stiles, though. But in all fairness, he's been blocking out childhood memories for many years now as they always bring heartache with them.

He quickly opens the door and watches as a startled Stiles turns to face him, pointing what he recognizes as the Sheriff's back up gun at him. 'Claudia' stands behind him, her hand resting between Stiles' shoulder blades.

"Stiles...Stiles, she's not real."

"You're not supposed to be here. Leave, Derek" he gestures towards the door with the gun.

Derek lifts his hands in mock surrender, ignoring his wolf's protests at the act of submission, and listens carefully to the noise of the pack arriving behind him, hoping they enter carefully as not to aggravate the situation any farther. He's relieved to hear them approach cautiously and open the door quietly. They quickly filed in behind him with Stiles still pointing the gun.

"Mrs. Stilinski?" Scott gasped out, because of course he did.

"Scott, you need to leave" Stiles said desperately.

"Stiles, you know that's not her." That was Chris, surprisingly.

"Shut the fuck up!" Stiles cried out, his finger going to the trigger.

"Stiles, honey, they want you to get rid of me" Not-Claudia said.

Stiles face went through a myriad of emotions too fast for Derek to decipher before it shut down completely.

"What? What'd you say?" Stiles said, turning to look at her.

"Stiles, look at them. They want you to kill me. Your own mother. I love you, Stiles. Please, don't let them hurt me. Please don't hurt me. You owe me that much."

"Mom..."

"Look at them!" She shouted.

Stiles turned his head back towards them, the hand holding the gun trembling and his eyes misted over. He quickly shook his head as if to shake the thoughts out.

"Please leave" he practically whispered.

"Stiles, please..." Not-Claudia persisted

"Mom...what's my name?" Stiles asked

"What?"

"Please...just humor me...what's my name?"

"Stiles. You're Stiles Stilinski, my beautiful son."

"Mom...I love you. I miss you so much." He whispered, tears falling freely down his cheek now. 

They watched as Stiles turned towards her, lowering the gun. They moved quietly towards her. They watched as her engulfed her in a hug. He pulled back quickly, putting is hands on either side of her face, despite the fact that one still had the gun in it.

"Mom," he said, crying in earnest, "mom, I love you. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Stiles baby, why are you sorry? Just send them away and all is forgiven." 

She quickly takes notice of his hesitation. "If you loved me, you'd send them away."

"I do, I love you. God, I love you so much" he said, before looking her right in the eyes and pulling the trigger.

The moments following are some of the hardest moments of Derek's life. He can only stand there, useless along with the rest of the pack, as Stiles falls apart in front of them. Not-Claudia's body turns gray and molten before eventually turning into a dusty, black smoke. Stiles doesn't seem to notice at all.

He's on his knees in the middle of the carpet, his ass on his heels, head hung low, sobbing incoherently, mumbling out words. His hands hang uselessly at his side, gun still held on by a few fingers. Derek can just barely make out some of the words he's mumbling.

"Killer, not fair, deserve better, alone, murderer, killed her, mom, mom, mom."

Derek rushes into action as Stiles' falls into the clutches of a panic attack, hyperventilating and shaking.

"Sh, Stiles. Relax, just breathe. It's okay, just breathe. We're here. We're right here."

He quickly turns his red eyes towards Scott, who had began to rush forward. Derek knew the last thing Stiles needed right now was an audience.

"Look, put you hand right here," Derek said, grabbing the hand that wasn't holding the gun and putting it on his chest, where his heart is, "feel that? Good, okay. Now breathe with me." 

Derek began to take slow, measured breaths and after a few minutes, Stiles began to copy. 

"Good boy. You're doing so good, Stiles. Okay, just relax."

Stiles suddenly collapses forward, his arms wrapping around Derek's neck and head going near the juncture of his throat. Derek instinctively wraps his arms around the boys waist and pulls him into his lap.

"Sh, it's okay. Just close your eyes. It'll be okay."

The boy's trembling begins to die down as his heart beat slows, eventually falling into a restless sleep.

Derek turns towards the pack, still standing in relatively the same position. Scott, Isaac and Lydia all have tears in their eyes, Boyd has his arms around Erica, calming her shaking. Chris has turned away in respect, and Peter and Deaton watch on with thinly veiled concern. 

"Go, go back to the house. Get some sleep, there's nothing left to do here."

Derek ignores the protests, mostly from Scott, as he turns back to the boy in his lap and runs his hand through his hair.

"He's been through enough tonight. He's not going to want a crowd. He's vulnerable and his instincts will probably want him to be with his Alpha. Even if he's not a wolf, he's still pack. I'll stay with him tonight, make sure he gets some sleep and eats in the morning. Scott, call the sheriff in the morning and ask him when he's getting home. Tell him Stiles had a rough night and may need the company. Don't tell him what happened. Go."

Derek ignored the knowing look he received from Lydia and they all filed out into their cars. He gathered the boy more fully into his arms and lifted him into a bridal carry, bringing him over to the couch.

After about an hour, Stiles began to wake. He snuffled quietly, his head in Derek's lap. Derek sat with his hand in Stiles' hair, the tv on mute in-front of him. Stiles' rolled, putting his face into Derek's shirt, curling up like a child. Derek's heart ached as he looked at the vulnerable boy in front of him, who grew up far to fast.

"She was so sick." Stiles quiet voice startling Derek out of his musings.

"What?"

"Before she died...she was so sick." Some trembling returned to his frame.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Yeah...yeah, I do."

"Okay, take your time."

"She was just...she was amazing. She was so sweet and beautiful and she always bought me batman band aids even though they cost more and they would always fall off in a matter of seconds. She was the happiest person I ever met...until she wasn't. It started off small, she was being shorter with me. She got angrier, would be quicker to yell at me. I remember the one day, I reached past her to grab a cookie and she slapped my hand. It was just so out of character for her. I should've known it would progress."

Derek pulled the boy closer to him, hoping to protect him from the bitter harshness of his own memories.

"It only got worse from there. She yelled all the time, she was always forgetting things. One day, she brought me to the park and then left. I had no idea where she went. I waited there for hours until my dad showed up, said mom didn't even remember leaving the house."

Derek couldn't help the short growl that escaped him at the thought of a young Stiles being left alone where anyone could've gotten him.

"My dad scheduled a doctors appointment for her and that's when it all went to hell. It was like, the idea that something was wrong with her sent her into a panic. They soonest appointment he could get was for a week later and it was one of the longest week of my life. Whenever my dad was at work, she would hit me. She would lock me in closets or in the basement. And then it would switch around and she'd want to go places, bake, watch movies. She was erratic and impulsive. Her moods were all over the place. She barely slept so she was always dragging me out of bed to go places. She would start driving and forget where we were going or where we were and we'd be stuck in the middle of nowhere until someone stopped to give us directions. I was terrified. And then the appointment came. They recommended we go to the hospital, my mom tried to refuse but my dad convinced her. They did a bunch of scans and there it was, frontotemporal dementia. Christ, it was like having the diagnosis made the disease come 10x stronger. She deteriorated so quickly after that."

Stiles starts to cry, silent tears wetting the front of Derek's shirt. Derek finds that, oddly, he doesn't mind at all. He just runs his fingers through the boys hair, absently smoothing it in hopes to calm him.

"She forgot who I was. It was like a knife to the chest the first time she tried to kick the 'strange young boy' out of her room. I mean, sometimes she would forget my name or how to pronounce it, but never me. She was the only one who had, up until her sickness, always gotten my name right. Even my dad struggled to pronounce it. But suddenly, I wasn't her son anymore. She talked about him sometimes, how she missed him. How he was a baby and so tiny and she couldn't wait to see him get older. But sometimes she hated him, talked about how he never shut up, was always moving, how he, how I, stole her life away from her. And that's when things got really bad."

"You don't have to keep going." Derek promised him, not particularly wanting to know the horrors a young Stiles had to face. He couldn't help thinking back to the way Stiles face had changed when not-Claudia had called him Stiles. His chest ached when he thought about how it took the creature calling Stiles her son for him to realize it wasn't real.

Stiles ignores him and continues the story, almost as if he's lost in his own mind. "I had to start going by Stiles because no matter what we said, we couldn't convince her I was her son. So we said I was Stiles, the son of one of the nurses. She calmed down around me a little after that, we thought that might be the ends of things, that things might even out. But it wasn't. She became paranoid, convinced people were out to get her. She swore the nurses were doctoring her food and medicine, she thought I was a spy, that I was helping them. One night," Stiles' voice cracked, "one night she sneaked out of her room and onto the roof. My dad and I followed her up there. She didn't notice me right away. She talked about how she couldn't stand to be in the same room as me, that I was killing. My dad tried to calm her down, reassure her that it wasn't true. I mean, christ, I was only 10. I wasn't a danger to anyone but myself. But she wouldn't listen. It was the first time she attacked me in front of him. She just lunged at me, started hitting me, my dad tried to pull her off but he didn't want to hurt her. It wasn't her fault,she was sick. She didn't know what she was doing. I ended up needing stitches in the back of my head, I got a concussion, and fractured my wrist from how she landed on me. After that, she never left her room, never saw anything outside the hospital again."

Derek had a steady rumbling coursing through his chest now at the thought of a 10 year old Stiles being attacked by his own mother, the one person meant to keep you safe and nurture you.

"She started getting paranoid around my dad, too. Was convinced he didn't love her and that he was cheating on her with the nurses. Normally she blamed Mrs. McCall. Said she knew he was lying about who I was, that I was probably him and Melissa's 'love child' and that we probably couldn't wait until she was dead. Within another three weeks, it was like she was an entirely new person. A stranger. That woman wasn't my mother, not the one I knew. Until she was. She woke up one day and turned to me and she knew who I was. She called me by my real name and everything. She said she knew she was hurting us, that she was going to die, and she needed my help. She told me if I really loved her, if I really wanted her to be happy, that I had to help her. That I owed her that much for getting her locked up in the hospital in the first place. She laid out this plan for me and told me that the next day, when my dad went to work after he visited, to carry it out."

Stiles whole body was shaking now, voice hitched and desperate.

"The next day, after my dad told her he loved her and left, I got to work. I took her IV out and opened up the bag to it. I dumped out half of its contents and then blew into it. I put the needle back into her arm...and then I squeezed the bag. Air bubbles got into her veins and burst. She started seizing, alarms were going off, the doctors were screaming and within minutes, she was dead. It was like everything was happening in slow motion. I didn't know she would die, I just wanted to help her!" Stiles insisted.

"Sh, I believe you. It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is! She knew I was going to kill her. And now I've done it again."

Derek felt his own eyes misting up at the statement as he realized the parallels between now and then. Stiles had been forced to kill his own mother all over again.

"That thing wasn't your mother. None of this is your fault. Nobody blames you."

"My dad does."

"No, of course your dad doesn't blame you."

"Yes...he does. He told me. After mom died, he started drinking...a lot. He couldn't cope. He was either working or drinking. We ran out of food in the house, it was a mess. I started trying to pull my own weight, y'know? I didn't want to stress him out anymore. But it wasn't enough. I was having panic attacks and I'd forget to take my medication so I was too full of energy. One night, he got plastered. Like completely wasted. He started yelling about how I was killing him, how I'd killed my mother, how he was stuck with me. He threw the whiskey bottle, it shattered on the wall above me and sprinkled glass everywhere. He moved forward suddenly, red in the face with anger, and I panicked and fell backwards, into the glass. Shards went into my hands and the back of my legs, I started crying which only made him angrier. He grabbed my arm, hard enough to bruise, and pulled me up. Said it was my fault, that she'd still be here if it wasn't for me. Then he hit me"

Derek felt his claws pop out and quickly moved his hand away from the boys hair. His fangs dropped, too, as he tried to reconcile the Sheriff he knew to a drunk like that. He wanted to kill something.

"It wasn't his fault, though. He was drunk, he didn't know any better. I ended up having a panic attack when he went upstairs that night and passed out on the floor. In the morning, god, his face when he saw me is burned into my eyes. He looked so devastated. He couldn't remember what happened, he started crying asking if he was the one who hurt me. He kept talking about how he'd turn himself into CPS and shit. I couldn't lose him too. I told him I had been messing around and broke the bottle. That I didn't tell him because I didn't want to get in trouble.I don't think he believed me but he dropped it. Helped me bandage my cuts with batman band aids and dumped out all his whiskey and we sat on this couch all day and watched a bunch of mom's favorite movies and lter we visited her grave and just sat there for a while. He stopped drinking for a while after that. Only recently did he trust himself to even have some in the house."

"He doesn't blame you, he was drunk and grieving and while that in no way excuses what he did, he still loves you, Stiles."

"But he was right! I killed her and ruined his life."

"Stop that! You were trying to help her. He never should've laid a hand on you, and if he does, you tell me."

Stiles didn't answer

"You tell me, understand?" Putting more force behind the words.

Stiles just nods.

They spend the night in relatively the same position. Stiles cries himself back to sleep and Derek sits there in silence, desperately trying to avoid thinking about how Paige and how similar it all was. Eventually the Sheriff arrived home in the morning and took Derek's place on the couch. Derek informed him that the latest monster brought up Claudia and he had a panic attack and Derek was relieved to see the genuine concern and love in his eyes when he looked down at Stiles.

And if Derek went home that night and looked up all the ways to stop a panic attack, then well, he was just being a good alpha.

And if he also continued to check on the Stilinski's and watch their house, well it was only monitor the Sheriff's alcohol consumption, nothing else.

Definitely nothing more than that.

Chapter Text

It was finals week and Stiles' was beyond stressing. He missed a week of school after the incident with the necromancer but it might as well have been a month with the amount of work he missed. He's regretting having a full schedule this year since it means that he and Lydia are tied with the most amounts of tests this week. Stiles understands how his ADHD works and the pros and cons of it. One major con is his inability to focus. While this isn't necessarily always true, since sometimes he gets into his hyper focus mode where he can only concentrate on one thing, most of the time doing any kind of testing is no good for him. This week is no exception.

To be honest, the only thing Stiles can think about lately is Derek. After the last monster of the week ended in super personal-secret spilling to the resident Alpha, Stiles'mind has been stuck on him. He can't help but constantly remember the way Derek's hands had felt around him, how safe he felt with the wolf protecting him. It was a nice feeling. That being said, Derek, of course, is still Derek.

He hasn't mentioned the incident at all. Granted they've only had two pack meetings since then but still. Derek continues to come around and check up on everything, though. He makes sure the window is locked, there's food in the house, and that the Sheriff is sober. Stiles can't even begin to describe how much he appreciates it, but he can't help but yearn for more. He understands that Derek is basically a walking, breathing Adonis and is certainly under no delusions that the leather-toting werewolf harbors any kind of romantic intentions towards the gangly weirdo that snotted on his shirt,but it is nice to imagine sometimes.

It's become a particular issue lately around the pack. He's aware they can smell emotions and Stiles knows he's got to be pushing out some pretty strong pheromones at this point. Every time he heads over to one of the betas houses to help them study, he has to practically douse himself in cologne, despite their many protests, to avoid having his crush detected.

Unfortunately, with all his focus being dedicated to Derek, he can't seem to concentrate on his school subjects. These tests are important and if Stiles wants to be able to get scholarships he needs to do well on them. This, however, means he needs to be a little dumb. He starts taking more of his Adderall than he's supposed to. Like 3-4x more than he's supposed to. He knows it's crazy and dumb but he also knows it's the best solution. It keeps him awake and energized plus focused so it means he can help the pack and is still aware enough to study on his own. It's a win-win. Or it would've been, if Derek wasn't such a mother hen.

Arriving at Derek's after his study session with the rest of the pack is a relief. They all kept wrinkling their noses at him and shooting him vaguely concerned looks. Stiles isn't sure what the hell's going on with them but it's a relief to be able to ask Derek.

Or maybe it's not a relief to be here since the second Stiles gets inside, Derek is slamming him against the wall.

"Whoa there, sourwolf. I thought we were passed this part of our relationship! Are you suddenly regressing, because I don't-"

"Shut the fuck up, Stiles!" Derek says, with his eyes flashing red and teeth growing slightly pointier, "tell me what the fuck you took!"

"How can I answer your questions if I'm supposed to shut up?" Stiles sasses without thinking.

Derek pulls him forward before slamming him back into the wall again.

"What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Take?!" Derek growls out.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Der-Bear"

"This isn't a fucking joke, Stiles! The drugs, what drugs are you taking?"

"Drugs? I'm not on drugs!"

"Don't fucking lie to me, I can smell them on you. So can the rest of the pack. I know you've been using cologne to cover it up but we can still smell it. Now what fucking drugs are you taking and where the fuck are you getting them?!"

Stiles' eyes widened in understanding. He honestly couldn't figure out if it was better or worse for them to think he was hiding a drug problem rather than finding out about his crush.

"The only drug I'm on is my Adderall!"

"Adderall?"

"For my ADHD. Okay, I'm not addicted. I take my meds just like the doctors prescribed." Stiles realized his mistake too late. Any slack Derek had put on his hold on Stiles was suddenly gone as he was re-slammed into the wall...again

"Christ, are you trying to give me brain damage?!"

"I heard you're heart blip. What the fuck have you been doing?!" Derek snarled.

"Okay, okay I'll tell you if you put me the fuck down." 

Derek does so, albeit reluctantly.

"Talk. Now"

"Great one word sentences again, fantastic. You really are regressing."

"Stiles"

"Okay. Look, I needed to focus on school and stuff for testing and to help everyone else study so I've been taking a little bit more of my adderall than I should. But it's not even a big deal."

And he was slammed into the wall once again.

"Not a big deal?! You've been purposely overdosing. on your prescription medication. which is illegal, by the way. to help some people study. for a test. they were all going to do fine on, anyway."

"Well, when you put it like that-"

"It doesn't matter how you put it, it was a dumbass thing to do."

"They needed help!"

"And their grades are suddenly more important than your health?"

Stiles could only watch as, heart pounding, Derek leaned forward towards the side of his head, Derek's hot breaths tickling his ear, as he whispered

"You will not do that again" before dropping him.

Stiles, barely managing to catch himself before he ended up as a heap on the floor, turned to glare half heartedly at Derek.

"Okay, I promise. Can I go now?"

"No."

"No?!"

"Text your dad, tell him you're staying here tonight."

"What, no!"

"Fine, leave and I'll tell your dad the truth and we'll see how he deals with it."

Stiles stood there gaping before closing his mouth shut with a click. "You're a real piece of work, y'know that Hale?" he mumbled, ignoring the smugness radiating from the Alpha.

"Now that that's done, you're going to eat a real fucking meal since you probably haven't realized you're hungry due to those fucking pills and then you're going to sleep in one of the guest rooms. In the morning we're going to get you one of those weekly pill holder containers that I will monitor. If you ever pull some shit like this again, I will fucking murder you. Then I'll tell your father and have you admitted into the nearest rehab center."

And as much as Stiles wanted to be pissed about being threatened and treated like a child, he really couldn't when it meant that Derek would randomly shove his head near Stiles' neck and sniff to check for the scent of drugs. He really really couldn't.

 Derek's been noticing Stiles behaving strangely lately. His hands seem shaky, his eyes darting everywhere, his heart racing, and he smelled like he fucking bathed in cologne. He wasn't the only one who noticed, either. The betas continuously texted him whenever they were with Stiles reporting similar observations. Derek finally decided enough was enough and invited him over to talk about it. Or at least that was the plan. It all went to shit, however, when Stiles showed up and Derek caught his scent.

Derek isn't proud to say he panics when the overwhelming scent of medication hits him. He doesn't even realize he has Stiles pinned to the wall for most of the conversation. He's far too busy trying to figure out how he could've missed a drug addiction or suicidal ideologies from him. He's not exactly calmed down much when Stiles confesses to overdosing on purpose to study of all things. Because of course Stiles would think he needs to risk addiction and health issues for some grades. Fucking moron.

Derek makes him food and gets him settled and then spends a few hours freaking the fuck out about everything that just happened. The next morning he makes Stiles breakfast and then takes Stiles out to get one of those fucking pill holder things that are made for old people to help monitor Stiles' medication consumption. 

And if Derek develops a habit of randomly smelling and scenting Stiles then well, it's only to cover up the scent of medication. Honestly, no other reason.

Chapter Text

John knew it was going to be a rough one when Stiles spent the entire week alternating between sneezing and coughing every 5 minutes. He knew better than to mention it, Stiles never took well to being told he was sick, and he was especially resistant to any form of care-taking or coddling so he knew he had to handle this situation gently.

"Hey kid. I think I'm going to make some of that vegetable and beef soup, okay?"

"You don't have to cook, dad. I can make something. You have work tomorrow, you deserve a night to relax" Stiles responded, his face open and concerned.

John felt a pang in his chest, a mix between proud and sad. How his boy grew up so selfless, so caring, he would never know. He knew he couldn't let it show on his face, however, as Stiles never responded well to compliments. 

"Yeah, I've got it. You've made dinner all week. It's time to pick up the slack. Don't need you forgetting who the parent here is."

"You better keep it heavy on the veggies. If I see you adding too much salt, you'll be eating kale for the rest of the week, don't think you won't."

"It seems I've waiting too long to reclaim my household position, you seem to think you're in charge."

"I'll tell Mel and she'll have your ass if she hears you're cheating on your diet."

"Language."

"Yeah, yeah. Just know I'll be keeping an eye on you."

After a dinner filled with Stiles' ramblings and coughing, John decides he should make sure Stiles relaxes and the best way to do it is by having one of their movie nights that they used to have constantly.

"Hey, kid. Wanna watch a movie?"

He watches as Stiles' eyes widened and filled with hope. John felt his heart clench at how they had been drifting farther apart more recently. How far they had drifted before he knew of the supernatural. After Stiles came home bruised and beaten and begging him to come get his friends out of a crazy old man's basement, there was no way John would stay in the dark any longer.

"Really, you sure?"

"Yeah, go grab some and a blanket and meet me on the couch."

"Yeah, okay."

He watched Stiles run off, tripping twice before even reaching the stairs.

"Left then right,kid." He snickered.

Getting settled on the couch, having Stiles' close to him again, loosened something in his chest. He quickly put his arm around Stiles' shoulders and pulled him close, Stiles instantly melted into the touch. He leaned over and shut off all but one lamp, pulling the blankets tight around him and his son, relaxing in to watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit for the night. 

John couldn't stop himself from wanting to check Stiles' temperature. But he also knew he needed to do it in a way that wasn't nearly as obvious as putting his hand to Stiles' forehead. He waited until Stiles' started to fall asleep, sniffling quietly before leaning over and kissing Stiles' forehead. His head was far too warm for John's liking and he internally frowned at the thought that Stiles had been hiding a fever like this from him but he wasn't completely surprised.

John remembers when Stiles was little and he would always squeeze himself into bed between him and Claudia or built a blanket nest in one of the closets and hide in there. He would never explain why he was acting like that and they would have to try and sneak in temperature tests or medicine dosages. Stiles always felt like he needed to take care of himself. Even when he was a young child of only 4 or 5, he would bless himself after sneezing before curling up into a ball and whimpering quietly, but silencing as soon as he was questioned.

John is startled out of his reminiscing by a particularly loud scene in the movie. He gets up and grabs a thermometer, sticking it underneath the boys tongue. After several seconds, the thermometer beeps, displaying a fever of 99.9.

He quickly pulls out his cellphone and calls Melissa.

"Hey, Mel."

"Hey, John. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just-Stiles seems to have gotten himself sick. But you know how he gets when it comes to medical care."

"Yeah, he's a stubborn boy, that one. Wonder where he gets it from," she intoned sarcastically, "but I'm working two shifts tomorrow but afterwards I could probably stop by."

John instantly felt conflicted. One half of him wanted to tell her not to worry, not wanting her to tire or stress herself out. The other half of him was far too concerned about Stiles' health to worry about other things.

"No, it's fine. But would it be okay if I gave Derek permission to call you if he has any questions to on how to care for Stiles? I figured I'd call him and ask him to try and Alpha the idiot into caring for himself."

"I don't know if that boy can be Alpha'd into anything but of course he can call. You working tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I have a double, too. I would take off but after taking off due to his panic attack a few weeks back, I don't think the department or Stiles would be very pleased with me. But hey, I'm going to call Derek before it gets too late. Thanks for everything, Mel. You're the best."

"And don't you forget it."

John began to dial Derek's number as soon as the call disconnected. As the phone rings, he settles back onto his place on the couch. Derek picks up almost instantly, because he's a worrywart.

"John?! Is everyone okay?"

"Yes, everyone's fine. It's about Stiles."

"Stiles?!"

"He's fine, relax. He just seems to have contracted a pretty rough cold and I was wondering if you could come watch him tomorrow."

"Yeah, of course. Shouldn't he go to the doctor? Does he have a fever? Does he need any medication? Should I-"

"Relax, Hale. I just need you here to make sure his fever doesn't rise and he doesn't do anything too strenuous. Ms. McCall said she's available if you need to call her with any questions, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah of course. But are you sure you want me there?

"Behind Melissa, you're the first person I called."

"I-uh"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Derek."

"Goodnight John."

 After that call ends, John returns his attention to the boy slumped against his shoulder, snoring slightly due to his stuffy nose. As much as John wants to keep him comfortable, he knows he's far too old to sleep on the couch and Stiles always gets a sore neck if he tries to, as well.

"Hey, kid" the Sheriff whispers, though there is no response.

"C'mon, kiddo. Head on up to bed." Still nothing.

John figures he's in a pretty deep rest as his body tries to fight off his illness. He stands quietly and bends down. He hooks one arm under his boys knees and another supporting his neck. Stiles, at this age, should be far too old to be carried to bed but he's had a rough week and he's never really weighed much, so carrying him this once won't be so bad.

After tucking his boy into bed, he's heads back downstairs to clean up a bit, knowing Stiles would feel obligated to do it if he awoke to a mess the next morning. After everything was settled, he heads up to bed.

When Derek gets the call, his mind instantly goes to the worse-case scenarios. Why else would the Sheriff be calling at this time of night? He's not exactly reassured to hear that Stiles is sick. Human's are so fragile. Mundane illnesses can develop into something life-threatening far too quickly for him to feel comfortable, at all. Part of Derek wishes Stiles would take the bite, but he also understands that Stiles doesn't want it unless he'll absolutely die without it and he respects that. This respect, however, doesn't calm his nerves as he paces his loft for the rest of the night until the first sign of light in the morning. Once day break hits, Derek's grabbing his shit and high-tailing it to the Stilinski residence.

Derek still finds himself uncomfortable with the prospect of knocking, much preferring to come in through the window but knowing that he would be faced with the Sheriff's disapproving looks and Stiles' merciless teasing is enough to convince him to knock. John doesn't even look surprised to see Derek there so early and Derek's not sure who that says more about in the situation.

"Hey, son. Thanks for coming early, actually. I just got called in, some rookie messed up important paperwork and apparently not a single deputy in the entire department has any idea how to fix it so I needed to head in early, anyways. I was about to call you."

Derek ignores the warmth in his chest at hearing the Sheriff call him 'son' and instead tries to focus on the instructions John gives him.

"He shouldn't be up for a little. Don't give him anything with milk incase he throws up, make sure he stays hydrated, I made a list of medicines he can take and the times and amount for doses, some emergency numbers, and a list of movies he likes to help keep him occupied. Make sure he remembers to take his adderall and everything should be fine. If his fever goes above 102, call Melissa or if he sounds like he's really struggling to breathe."

Derek tries not to panic at the amount of responsibility he's being given and the trust the Sheriff is displaying by allowing him to care for his only child while they're vulnerable.

"Derek, relax. Quit looking like I'm sending you to your death. He doesn't need a babysitter, he's 17. I'd just feel more comfortable here with someone watching. It's not a test."

Derek almost instantly relaxes, much to the Sheriff's amusement. John claps him on the back before heading out the door towards the cruiser.

About an hour after the Sheriff leaves, Derek hears the change in Stiles' heart beat that indicates that he's waking up. He's up the stairs before he even realizes what he's doing. He can hear the rustling of sheets and mild groaning from Stiles as he enters the world of consciousness. Derek goes into his room and squats down next to the bed, almost instantly running his fingers through Stiles' slightly fever-damp hair on instinct.

"Hey pup, you okay?" he questioned quietly.

"Hmm. What, yeah. Why?" Stiles responded, voice groggy and rough. Derek instantly shut down any inappropriate thoughts the voice brought to mind.

"Do you need anything?"

"Whu-Derek?!" Stiles squeaked out,eyes opening wide.

Derek stared down at him in confusion. "Stiles?"

"No, don't look at me" Stiles mumbled, his words muffled by the pillow he decided to shove his face into, "I look all gross and snotty and you look like walking sex."

Derek clears his throat, hoping his stubble hides the blush rising to his cheeks but knowing it will do nothing to hide the red tips of his ears. He couldn't stop the small smile that graced his face at the melodramatic boy in front of him. Stiles turned back towards him, eyes squinting.

"I really must be dreaming."

Derek grunted, hoping it conveyed his lack of understanding. Clearly it did, as Stiles began to clarify quickly.

"Big scary I'm-the-Alpha-now Derek Hale blushing and smiling? Clearly must be a fever dream."

Derek shook his head fondly at that ridiculous statement and got up to get water.

"Wait, just because you're a dream doesn't mean you have to leave. I enjoy looking at you!" Stiles shouted at his back. Derek ducked his head as his blush deepened.

After dropping a glass of water and his first round of meds off in Stiles' room, Derek heads downstairs to re-heat the soup the Sheriff left in the fridge. He's npt surprised to hear Stiles heavy foot steps following him down not long after. He is, however, surprised to see the angry look adorning Stiles' face.

"What's wrong?" Derek asks, instantly concerned.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Derek looks around, bewildered. "Making soup?"

"I'm not a child, Derek."

"I'm not entirely sure I understand what you're saying, Stiles."

"I don't need you babying me! It's a little cold."

"Okay, A. It's not just a 'little cold', you have a fever and that's cause for concern. B, when have you ever known me to baby anyone? and C, I'm here to make sure you take care of yourself seeing as you have the self-preservation instincts of a lemming"

Stiles seemed to be considering the first two points, but quickly bristled at the third.

"Okay, dad. Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Stiles, not everything is a personal attack against you, okay? I'm your Alpha, I'm supposed to watch out for you."

"So you're doing this out of some weird wolfy-obligation?"

"No, you idiot. I'm doing it because I'm worried about you. Now shut up and eat your soup before I pour it down your throat."

"Now that sounds like the Sourwolf we all know and love."

And if Derek's heart fluttered a little faster on the word love, well, nobody else was around to hear it.

After making sure Stiles ate a full bowl of soup and checking to make sure he took his medication, Derek directed Stiles towards the couch for some movie/relaxation time.

"Y'know, the rules for couch movie-time is there has to be snuggling. Don't think you can get away without that." Stiles stated, his eyes wide with innocence but mouth twitching with mischief.

"Oh really?"

"You bet, Der-Bear. No snuggling means I'm gonna go vacuum the entire house or something else equally stressful on my fragile body."

"If I was more sure that you'd live through this illness, I'd kill you."

"Aren't wolves supposed to be tactile creatures?"

"I'm not a wolf, Stiles" Derek sighed out, exasperated.

"I beg to differ."

"Are you really going to be difficult?"

"Absolutely."

"Fine, c'mon." Derek stated, before taking a seat on the couch and pulling Stiles towards him. Stiles practically melted into the hold, slumping his body into Derek's while pulling the blanket tighter around him. He seemed to wiggle for a bit before apparently finding the perfect spot on Derek's chest and closing his eyes.

Derek hated to admit how much Stiles had been right about wolves being tactile and how much the touch from his mate pack soothed him. Luckily he doesn't have to as not long after Derek starts the movie, Stiles' breathing evens out (as much as it can with a stuffy nose and congested everything else) and he falls asleep.

Derek is happy to let him rest for a few hours until he goes to absently kiss Stiles' forehead and feels that it seems to have gotten hotter. He pulls out the thermometer he luckily remembered to grab before sitting down and places it underneath Stiles' tongue. His relaxed state is quickly diminished when his temperature reads 101.8.

"Stiles, Stiles, buddy, time to get."

"Nooo. Five more minutes." Stiles whined. Derek shook him gently, which seemed to wake Stiles up more.

"Whu's up?" He asked, sleepily.

"You need to get more medicine in you. Your fever is rising and we need to fix that right now because I've read about human fevers and they can overheat the body and the mind and-"

"Whoa, okay Big Bad," Stiles started, seemingly fully awake now, "don't go stealing my nervous rambling-style, it's my signature move. I'm not Roscoe, I'm not going to be overheating anytime soon so relax. But, if it'll calm down your weird alpha-instincts, I'll take some more meds. I just hate the drowsy feeling that accompanies them"

Derek's up in a flash, grabbing the medicine bottle and bringing it over to the couch with a glass of water. It only takes another half hour or so until Stiles is asleep against Derek again. Derek wraps his arms protectively around Stiles' waist, and buries his face in Stiles' hair. His nose is assaulted with the scent of sickness and sweat but also of a scent that's so purely Stiles it helps to relax him. 

Apparently it does such a wonderful job of relaxing him that he falls asleep, as well. He only awakens when he hears the door opening, his shift coming on instinctively as he curses himself for his carelessness, stiles could be in danger, it could be hunters or another wolf- Derek's eyes are flashing and fangs growing as he curls himself around Stiles more protectively as-

-the Sheriff rounds the corner. John pauses at the sight of a 20-something year old Alpha with sleep-tousled hair and crease marks in his cheeks curled around his only child, half-shifted and growling lowly.

"You okay there, cujo?" He asks with an unmistakable chuckle in his voice.

Derek feels another blush rising to his cheeks in embarrassment. He can practically taste the smugness radiating from the Sheriff for being able to freak out an Alpha.

"How was he?" John asks, eyes softening as they land on Stiles' prone, still asleep figure.

"He was fine, sir. His fever rose at one point but he feels much cooler now. He ate a bowl of soup and has been sleeping for pretty much the whole day."

The Sheriff just looked at Derek with an almost-fondness in his features.

"You better treat him right."

Derek startled, "what?"

"You better treat him right. I have guns, y'know."

"I don't-I have no idea what you mean, sir." Derek stammered out, eyes downcast. 

"Sure you don't," the sheriff chuckled, clapping Derek on the shoulder before walking past the Alpha, "and cut it out with that 'sir' crap, son"

"Yes, si-Sheriff"

"Nice save."

Derek looked down once again in embarrassment, his wolf protesting at the sign of submission.

"Hey kid, why don't you carry Stiles upstairs for me and get him in bed?"

Derek looked up, eyes wide.

"C'mon, help an old man out. My back can't take that twice in a row. Besides, I think I'll head up and get some sleep, myself."

Derek nods before walking over to the couch and gently lifting Stiles into a bridal carry. He walks slowly and gracefully up the stairs, careful not to jostle the boy. As Derek lays the boy in his bed, he can't help but notice how soft and vulnerable he looks, how beautiful he is even covered in a light layer of sweat and mumbling quietly. Derek can't help but feel his chest loosen at the knowledge that the Sheriff approves of whatever he and Stiles are doing.

And if Derek goes home and buys every movie mentioned on the list the Sheriff gave him, it's only to brush up on pop culture, really.

Chapter Text

Stiles hasn't been able to sleep much at all, lately. Between his chronic insomnia and realistic nightmares, he averaging 2 hours of sleep every other day. He's always had issues with insomnia and his nightmares started anew after Gerard, but they seem to have doubled and tripled in intensity since the necromancer incident. It's terrible and it's starting to show. He has deep, dark bags underneath his eyes and increasingly pale skin. His hands shake constantly and he can't stop jiggling his legs whenever he sits. His brain is muddled, like in order to have any kind of coherent thought, he has to fight to the surface.

The other day when Stiles is in biology, they were doing frog dissections and Stiles could've sworn the whole goddamn lab table was vibrating and the frogs were still moving. Clearly the sleep deprivation was starting to cause some low-scale hallucinations, which is slightly concerning.

Stiles, despite understanding the dangers of sleep deprivation, ignores it. He continues with going to school and pack meetings, the latter proving to be a mistake. He knows the second he shows up at Derek's loft that it's a mistake. The entire pack looks towards him, sniffing the air practically in sync with each other. Stiles doesn't even know what they're looking for, his anxiety levels? If he smells like food? How much medication he took? Who knows with these mother hens. Stiles doesn't complain, however, since whatever he smelled makes Peter bring him a strong cup of coffee with a mound of sugar in it.

Unfortunately, the caffeine doesn't seem to be enough to wake him up as he begins to nod off on the couch, because of course the one place he can comfortably fall asleep in over two weeks is the fucking couch in the middle of a fucking pack meeting. He doesn't notice the pack lowers their voices or the blanket that's placed over him. He doesn't even notice someone taking the cup out of his hand and he curls up, succumbing to the darkness.

Waking up however, is an entirely different experience.

He wakes up disoriented and scared, shot out of one of his more horrific dreams lately. He absently realizes he's screaming but he can't focus on that, too busy thrashing out of the hold somebody has on him, desperate to get out, run run, get to safety, go, have to-

-"STILES!"

His eyes fly open, blinking tears out of his eyes rapidly as he comes into focus, his screams quieting, changing to soft whimpers and he falls into the warm, hard body against his, burying his face in their shoulder.

"Sh, it's okay pup. Relax."

Stiles recognizes the nickname and realizes that yes, it is the alpha that he's clinging to. He pulls his sleeve over his hand and wipes at his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he pushes himself up, breathing heavily. He looks around the room and notices everyone's staring at him, eyes wide with concern.

"Hey guys" he tries, voice rough and sore.

"Stiles.." Scott whispers, his eyes watering slightly.

"Don't go getting emotional on me now, buddy."

"This isn't a joke, Stiles." Lydia says, voice harsh but not hiding her worry.

Peter comes back with their first aid kid.

"Why do we need that?"

Peter looks pointedly down at his arms and Stiles follows his gaze. He can't hide his wince at the scratch marks down them, knowing that occasionally, during rough nights, he'll begin to scratch down his arms. Peter patiently begins to clean and dress the cuts and Stiles can't help but to appreciate how far their friendship has come from their old antagonistic one.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Derek whispers near his ear.

"I didn't want to worry the pack."

"You are pack, anything that concerns you also concerns us."

And if that statement warmed something up inside Stiles and had him relaxing farther into Derek's hold, well, nobody called him out on it.

 Derek hated the exhaustion that radiated around Stiles for the past week or so. It clings to him like a second skin and makes the air around him sour and tense. Derek feels uncomfortable every time he stares at the bags under his eyes or the way his hands shake.

Derek tries to help as much as he can, giving Stiles things that are calming, buying coffees and teas for the loft, and placing more blankets on the couch near him during pack meetings to help him settle down. The only down fall of doing these things are the looks he gets from the rest of the pack when they notice the practical blanket-nest Derek builds in Stiles usual seat or the way he constantly radiates towards Stiles whether they be sitting or walking or in anyway whenever they're even in the same building, honestly. Derek blushes every time he thinks about what Stiles would say if he ever realized what Derek was doing, the kind of teasing he would face.

He makes sure to pay close attention to Stiles at the next meeting. At the way his skin seems to have gone completely ghost-white since the last time he was here, the shifty way his eyes search the room, the way he leg jiggles as he struggles to keep himself awake once he gets seated. Derek's glad when Peter makes Stiles coffee, that he's looking after his pack mates and respecting their wishes. He is, however, even more glad when Stiles finally nods off. He appreciates the way Allison gets a blanket to drape over him, how Erica lowers her voice as to not disturb him, the way Jackson lowers the volume on the TV. It's relaxing and the environment in the room calms as he sleep. 

Until, of course, he wakes up.

It started off with little, quiet whimpers. A few, slightly distressed muffled words. But, seemingly out of no where, it escalated into full-body screaming and thrashing. It startles the hell out of the entire pack when it first happens, almost all of them jumping in the air before snapping their necks turning towards the resident-human.

Derek quickly jumps into action, his heart in his throat, and grabs Stiles around the waist, positioning himself carefully to avoid getting headbutted, and calling out Stiles' name until he finally calmed. He begins to absently whisper soothing words to the boys as he clings to his arm. When Derek raises his head, he sees his concerned echoed in the rest of the packs eyes. 

Stiles tries to ease the tension with a joke much to Derek's disapproval. This is, however, overshadowed when Peter brings out the first aid kit. This startles Derek into noticing the scent of blood for the first time. He's glad Peter took the initative to get bandages without waiting to be asked. As Stiles winces when he notices the wounds, the smell of guilt and shame fill the air, clearly indicating this is not the first time the boy has harmed himself in the throws of a nightmare.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Derek whispers, almost to himself.

"I didn't want to worry the pack." Derek almost smacks him upside the head for this but instead chooses to reassure the boy that the pack will always worry for him and pointedly ignoring the looks he receives and the boy's scent turns happen and he practically molds to Derek's arms.

After the meeting ends, he asks Stiles privately to stay after, ignoring the suggestive eyebrow lift that Peter throws his way before heading upstairs.

"Stiles," he begins, once they're alone, "I need you to tell me when things like this are going on."

"I don't need help. It's just dreams."

"It's not just dreams. They're scaring you. Please, let me help. I need to."

"Why?"

"I'm your Alpha, it's my job. I need to."

"I'm not one of your betas."

"No, but you are absolutely my pack. I hate seeing you look like this."

"I don't enjoy looking like this."

"Shut up, that's not what I meant. When did they start?"

Stiles whispers something that even Derek's werewolf hearing can't pick up on.

"Wanna try that again, maybe a little louder."

"After Gerard...I mean, I used to get them when I was younger but they stopped for a while."

The mention of Gerard's name has Derek's eyes flashing a bright red before he gets control of himself.

"This has been going on since Gerard and you never said anything?!"

"I didn't want to talk about it."

"You will now."

Stiles paused before seemingly coming to an agreement.

"I'll try to let you in more, but only if you agree to do the same. I doubt you have restful sleep every night."

"Fine," Derek reluctantly agrees,"Is your dad home tonight?"

"No, he has work overnight. He'll probably be sleeping on the cot in his office."

"Stay here tonight."

Stiles startled and Derek realized how that sounded. 

"To sleep-y'know, to help you-to keep you-can you just" he stammered as a wide smile began to spread over Stiles' face, eyes twinkling with amusement.

But luckily, Stiles seemed to take pity on him and agreed.

"I don't know how well I can sleep though, I don't have my pillow with him" he stated, rather shyly. 

"You won't need one" Derek responded, ignoring Stiles' confused look. It was all clarified later when Derek pulled Stiles into bed with him, having Stiles put his head right over Derek's heart, hoping the steady beat would lull him to sleep and looping their legs together as Derek kept an arm around Stiles' waist, his large hand flat over Stiles' taunt belly.

There were no nightmares that night.

 Stiles will be the first to admit that he was a little freaked out about the Derek-sanctioned cuddle fest they had (though the alpha in question refuses to call it that) until Derek explained that the closeness of pack would be helpful to both of them. It should make sleeping easier and should also keep away nightmares for the both of them. The knowledge that it could potentially benefit both of them is what ultimately made him agree and boy is he glad he did.  Even though Stiles knows that he and Derek will never be something more, that this is a purely unrequited crush, platonic cuddles are amazing with him. Stiles was able to curl up close and felt safe the entire time. He didn't want to leave. Derek assured him that he could come back anytime he needed it but Stiles didn't want to appear clingy so he avoided doing that for about a week or two, until of course, he had one of the worst nightmares in years.

He awoke in a blind panic, not even able to scream. He rapidly began to blink fast, hoping to dispel the awful images flashing in his mind but was unable to do so. Huge, choking sobs forced their way out of his throat as he desperately tried to calm himself down. He quickly jumped out of his bed and grabbed his keys, not bothering to grab his phone or even socks, before running downstairs and out the door. He didn't even bother trying to be quiet as he knew his father had yet to arrive home. 

Driving was a mistake. His hands were shaking too much to even get the keys in originally and trying to navigate the sharp turns up the preserve with blurry eyes and a panic-riddled brain was no walk in the park. Stiles had to pull over 4 separate times to try and take some deep, calming breaths to stave off the panic attack until he can at least get to Derek's place.

Arriving at Derek's is like the breath of fresh air and Stiles yanks his keys out and slams the door, being uncharacteristically rough with his prized possession, before racing to the door. He doesn't even have a chance to knock before Derek is yanking the door open. The sight of him brings tears to Stiles eyes and he hastily wraps his arms around Derek's neck, crying into his shoulder. He can practically feel Derek freak out but he can't offer any reassuring words as he falls into the clutches of a panic attack. 

Derek practically drags him into the loft and Stiles thinks he can hear him say something quietly to Peter along the way but doesn't get to hear anything specific. Derek pulls Stiles sideways into his lap on the couch like Stiles is a child and pulls him close. Stiles would normally object to this kind of infantile treatment but he doesn't think he could handle anything else right now. He feels a hand run through his hair and looks up to see Peter dropping two mugs of hot chocolate onto the table looking worried. Peter also brings over a blanket for the two cuddled together.

After a few minutes of Derek coaching him through a panic attack, Stiles feels himself relax. He drinks the hot chocolate to help himself truly calm.

"What happened?" Derek asks soothingly

"You died," Stiles croaks out, "there was so much blood and you weren't bleeding and I kept trying to wake you up but you wouldn't and there was so much blood-"

"Shh, shh. It's okay. Look, I'm fine. It's okay." Derek says, pulling him closer. Derek then lifts the boy and carries him into his room, arranging them just so on the bed, leaving Derek spooning a half-asleep Stiles.

 Derek hates seeing Stiles like this. When he first arrived, Derek just barely managed to control his shift when the scent of Stiles misery and panic hit him. He hates knowing that he drove here, that he was alone and scared for so long. He hates feeling this useless. Bringing him upstairs and covering him in his scent, being in a position of protection seems to be the only way to calm his wolf down. He waves off Peter's concerned looks and quietly whispers, to avoid waking Stiles' up, to him, letting him know everything's okay and thanking him for the drinks and blanket. They spend the rest of the night cuddled tightly together, only releasing when Stiles needs to go home.  Derek never wants to feel Stiles' that miserable again.

And if a mysterious dream catcher spelled by Deaton shows up under Stiles' pillow the next day, Derek certainly knows nothing about it.

Chapter Text

The pack meeting isn't even one of significance, it's more of an excuse to hangout overnight. Even though summer has started, it's not often that the pack has an excuse to hangout all night unless it's one of their weekly meetings. On Saturdays, they all typically curl up together and watch movies before falling asleep. One thing that stands out, however, is that Stiles is missing.

"Has anyone seen Stiles today?" Derek finally gives in and asks. He knows it's only been half and hour since the 'meeting' started and had it been anyone else, he wouldn't be as panicked, but Stiles normally shows up an hour or two ahead of time to help set up or more accurately, yell instructions at Derek while he slouches on the couch, eating the food he so often denies his father.

"He said something came up with his dad and he wouldn't be able to make it. I just assumed he texted you, too." Scott replied.

"Try not to look too disappointed Der, the rest of us will just cuddle with you extra tonight."

"Erica, don't call be Der."

She pouts, "Stiles always gets to."

"Stiles also cleans before and after meetings if you'd like to do that, as well." She wisely doesn't reply.

The meeting is pretty normal after that, if a little quieter than usual. The movie choice is left up to Lydia as nobody can remember whose turn it is to choose (Stiles is the one who set the schedule) since everyone's too intimidated by her to argue against the Notebook so most of the pack dozes off fairly early. By Dear John, everyone but Derek is asleep. Unfortunately it's not Derek's secret soft spot of rom coms that's keeping him awake (though Derek will deny that tooth and nail), but his instincts. He can't help but meticulously check over his pack again and again in hopes it will soothe his wolf.

fix it fix it help packpackpack

Normally he at least understands what his wolf wants, but right now Derek has no idea. Which is why he can't help but be a bit relieved when the house phone rings as a distraction from deciphering his mood. Only a few people have the house number and most happen to be in the room with him so he's not too sure who's calling.

"What?"

"Derek!"

"Sheriff?"

"Hey, can you tell Stiles he left his adderall here? He should know better by-"

"Wait, what?"

"His adderall, the container. It's ridiculous, I reminded him this-"

"Stiles isn't here, John."

"...What?"

"He told Scott he needed to help you with something and wouldn't be able to make it."

"Derek, I saw him leave to head to the house this afternoon."

Derek's stomach lurches and he's moving for his cellphone before he even realizes.

"I'll call you back" he says before quickly hanging up.

When he tries to unlock his phone, it helpfully informs him that it's dead. He curses quietly before plugging it in by the counter. He waits impatiently, not wanting to wake up the pack just yet but also wishing that Stiles was just here already until finally the screen lights up. It vibrates for a few seconds before showing several missed calls and a voicemail from Stiles.

"Derek" 

Derek feels his shoulders slump in relief at just hearing Stiles' voice, even through the phone. This changes, however, with Stiles' next line.

"I think I'm being followed. Hunters. I was heading to your house but I'm going to keep driving and see if they stay with me. I don't want to bring them to the pack house. I'll call you when I lose them. Stay safe."

Derek calls the Sheriff pack immediately.

 John was about to leave to head to Melissa's when he realized Stiles left his medication. He had felt a bit annoyed that his 17 year old son couldn't remember something he's been taking for years but now, knowing what he does now, he can't help but thank his sons forgetfulness. Had Stiles remembered, they might not have noticed until the next day. Even the thought of it makes him unreasonably upset.

His phone calls with Derek are terrifying. Being told his sons whereabouts are unknown and then being told that his son was being followed is something no parent ever want to hear. He tries to stay as professional as possible, knowing that panicking is the last thing he should do but it's difficult. He can't help but feel guilty. He should've protected him, should've called sooner, anything. John's pretty sure the last thing he said to Stiles was that he was glad he was glad Stiles was leaving since it meant a meal without a mother hen for once. The last thing his son heard him say was that he was glad he was gone. John feels sick. 

He calls the department as fast as possible and issues an APB on Stiles' jeep. While waiting to hear back, he changes back into his uniform and gets ready to spend the night looking. Luckily, he gets a call back in less than half an hour saying they used the "locate the iphone" app and found Stiles phone, which happened to be inside his jeep. John heads to the location immediately.

Arriving is like a nightmare come true. The jeep is flipped off the road, lying on the driver side door. As he nears, he can see small amounts of blood on the seats, windows, and a few places on the ground itself. He also notices a small note on top of Stiles' pillow in the back of the car. Once the Sheriff is sure nobody is looking at him, he grabs it.

"Seems you forgot to keep an eye on your human."

He shoves the note in his pocket and calls Melissa.

 Melissa is woman enough to admit that she's scared. John's call had been enough to shake her, badly. She loves Stiles like a second son and she hates to see him hurt. She remembers him when everything with Claudia was going on. It was heartbreaking. Her beautiful, sweet best friend succumbing to her illness and her young, innocent son was forced to bear the brunt of it. The Stilinski family has never been the same.

After Claudia's death, Stiles and Scott grew impossibly close. Stiles didn't care that Scott was practically a social pariah at the time or that he could barely walk for more than 10 minutes without needing an inhaler. Instead, Stiles began to act out in class to keep the attention off Scott. If Scott had an asthma attack, Stiles could be found standing atop a lunch table wearing a goddamn dress (and seriously where the hell did he get that?) and announces his love to Lydia Martin. If Scott was being bullied, Stiles was right there with him egging the bullies on so they would focus their aggression away from her son. Stiles even managed to acquire an extra inhaler that he started carrying around just in case. 

Hell, Stiles even stood up to Raphael. If Raff said anything rude or insulting to either Scott or even Melissa at times, Stiles was throwing it right back in his face, regardless of how nasty Raff responded. Melissa can remember with painful clarity the times Raff brought up Claudia's death or John's drinking, but Stiles never backed down. He never failed to let Scott know that he'd have his back. She owes Stiles.

She also loves John, who was there for her through everything. When Raff was drunk or mean or when he finally needed to go, he didn't ask questions, just did what she asked. He's always been her support system, and she can't imagine what it must be like to have her child be kidnapped twice within such a short period of time. She doesn't want to ever see a John without a Stiles. But she can't dwell on that, there's work to be done.

She calls Scott.

 Scott throws up when he gets the call. He doesn't know how else he's supposed to react, his best friend is missing. His brother.

He never thought anything like this would happen again after Gerard. They'd taken such careful precautions to make sure he'd be safe. Scott doesn't know what to do. This is normally when he'd go to Stiles to talk about it. Scott is lost and confused and worried and fucking pissed. A pack full of werewolves and they couldn't protect the one person that brought them all together. Stiles made the pack possible.

After Gerard, when everything finally came out and Stiles heard about Scott's plan, he punched him in the face, no hesitation. Scott will admit he felt a little betrayed, his best friend siding with the guy they hadn't trusted the entire time, what the hell was that about. But when Stiles finally made Scott listen, explained all the awful things Gerard had done to Derek, had allowed to happen to Derek and how Scott using Derek's body like that, without consent or warning, was beyond unforgivable, Scott felt like an ass. He knew he had been wrong, he just felt so desperate and alone. Though, voicing those thoughts had gotten him hit again.

"You're never alone Scott. You'll always have me. I would've found a much better plan, don't ever think I won't. Now wolf the hell up and apologize to Derek before I have you neutered."

He also made him stop talking to Allison. Scott put up one hell of a protest there until Stiles broke the news about Allison's part in everything. Scott felt horrified. Erica and Boyd had been targeted all because Derek saved Scott's life. Scott knew Stiles was right...again. Stiles was also eventually responsible for Allison's return, which Scott couldn't thank him enough for. Scott knows it's his time to return the favor, to show that this friendship isn't one-sided, but first, they'll need help.

He calls Argent.

 Chris can't help the worry that sparks in him when he gets the call. While he's not particularly close with the boy, he does admire him a great deal. He knows he certainly owes the boy more than he could ever repay. After the incident with Gerard, finding out that his father had beaten a teenage human boy in their basement, right underneath Chris' nose without him knowing, had him swimming with a mountain of guilt. Coupled with the fact that his own daughter had played a role in it, he had felt overwhelmed.

When the police had first shown up to rescue Erica and Boyd, Chris didn't know what to expect or what the story was. Stiles had pulled him aside, unwavering and confident regardless of the bruises and marks that graced the boys fragile body, and explained everything. Stiles explained everything with Victoria, what she had tried to do and why Derek had been forced to bite her. He explained Allison's role in everything and Gerards careful manipulation of her. He also explained what had to be done about it. Chris will admit that he had been terrified he would be backed into a corner, forced to defend his daughter (because he would, no matter what) against her actions, but Stiles hadn't done that. No, Stiles had protected her. 

Apparently he hadn't even informed his own father of Allison's role in everything and had even gotten Derek's betas to lie as well. He said he understood the loss of a mother (and boy had Chris struggled to ignore the pain in the kids eyes) but also knew that her actions couldn't be forgiven. He had given Chris the name of a therapist who knew of the supernatural, that Allison would be forced to have mandatory meetings with at least twice a week. He also informed Chris that the Argent's needed to vacate Beacon Hill's until Hale had deemed them fit to return. Chris had bristled at this order but knew it was the least he owed them. The Argent's were to retire from hunting until deemed fit and were to inform all other hunters to avoid Hale land. Chris had allowed these conditions.

It had been a surprise when, 6 months later, Chris had received a phone call from Hale demanding a meeting with him and Allison. It was held on neutral ground and the Stilinski boy would also be in attendance. Chris had, obviously, been wary of the meetings intentions but was soothed fairly quickly. The meeting was a sort of check up to see the progress that had been made. Allison had burst into tears the second she saw Stiles. Chris was happy to see that, while Stiles had treated her gently, he neither forgave her nor coddled her. Chris knew that he could never have been harsh enough to show Allison the faults of her actions and was glad Stiles seemed to have no such qualms. When they finally were allowed to return two months later, Chris knew that was Stiles' choice as well. 

Now it seems that it's time to pay Stiles back. He's ashamed to know it was hunters who have grabbed the boy again, to know it was someone he had likely associated with in the past that had twisted the code once more.

He called Allison.

 Allison absolutely freaks when she hears. How could this happen to Stiles? Again? Everyone had been so careful to keep him safe so how the hell did he get taken right under their noses by hunters? Her own people? She loves Stiles and she knows she owes him. She owes him more than she could ever know, even if that's not how she felt at first.

When her dad first told her about the agreement he made with Stiles, she was pissed. What gave them the right to decide matters of her life like that? But after her dad described how Stiles had kept her out of trouble but could easily incriminate her at any move, she reluctantly agreed even if she was bitter as hell. 

She spent most of her time while packing her bags frothing in rage about how inconsiderate and dramatic he was, so of course that was when he showed up. She was fully prepared when she opened the door to rip him a new one, but that all went out the window when she saw how injured he was. He didn't even wait for her to say anything as he launched into a story about his mom's death and how awful everything was after. He talked about how he shaved his head and wouldn't shut up and threw himself into mindless research and didn't eat and stopped eating and how he attacked nurses and doctors and any medical professional so fiercely and consistently that even now certain doctors refuse to see him. He talked about how he had even considered killing himself because why the fuck would he want to live without his mom? And he talked about his anger and loneliness and how he understood but also could never really understand because Stiles lost his mom but this was Allison's mom and it would never be the same and he could never really know but he could understand. He also told her the truth of what happened between Allison's mom and Derek, about how Scott is alive because of it and how nobody blames her for being manipulated or for grieving or for loving the family she thought she knew but they do blame her for what she did and they owed her no mercy or forgiveness. He told her that Erica and Boyd and Derek all reserved the right to never forgive her if they chose so and that it was her consequence to bear and that if she ever put the pack in danger like that again, he would kill her himself. He had then proceeded to hug her and leave. (Allison maintains it was still the most startling conversation of her life). 

He was also the one that allowed her home, that let her start over. He even stopped Erica from beating the shit out of her (though he did let her get in a good hit or two, which Allison definitely deserved.) He mended her relationship with Scott and got her the help she needed and now she has another family that she can rely on. And now he's relying on her to help. He helped her in ways she couldn't even imagine and now it's time to help him. 

She calls Erica. 

 Erica feels guilty. How the fuck did they fail to protect Stiles again? Why is it always him? When did he get a fucking break? Stiles is her batman, her partner in crime. It was bad enough watching him get beaten the first time, to dangle there helpless and hurt like so many other times in her life. The bite was supposed to make her better, something more, but she's never felt as utterly human as she did in that basement. And Stiles, fragile, human Stiles who had been beaten and abused right there had been the one to save the day. He'd been the one to get out and get help. They were werewolves and he was stronger than all of them combined. 

He hadn't paid mind to his own injuries, hadn't care at all about his own safety. He came marching right back into the basement as if it wouldn't be the setting of his nightmares for months to come. When he had first asked her to lie about Allison's involvement, she was pissed. Sh'es ashamed now to know that she had called him selfish and insensitive, since she sees now what he was doing. He was protecting everyone like he always does. Even if he asked her to lie, he never told her to. He gave her the choice, just like he gave her the choice to forgive Allison. He never pushed it or even actively encouraged it, just told her to do what was best for herself. 

He did, however, force her to apologize to Derek. He said she could apologize and leave or apologize and stay but under no circumstances was she going to do anything before apologizing. She apologized for her treatment of him, for kissing him without consent, and for running away. She had been terrified Derek would turn her away, wouldn't allow her back, but instead he welcomed her and Boyd back with open arms and she hasn't regretted it since. She can't even imagine what would've happened to her had she left.

She calls Boyd. 

 Boyd is concerned. While he knows that Stiles can care for himself, he's still human. He feels for the scrawny kid and certainly doesn't want a repeat of the Gerard incident. Boyd saw first hand how Stiles provoked Gerard in that basement and knew without a doubt he was probably doing worse than that now. He can't help but want to protect him from his own lack of self-preservation. 

The kid saved him. Saved Erica, too. He helped her during her seizure, convinced her to stay. He's the reason they're all here. He also helped Boyd with matters outside the pack. Got his thief of a landlord arrested when he tried to cheat Boyd's mom out of rent money. He helped him learn how to socialize, helped him connect. Boyd hasn't felt this close to anyone in his whole life. Boyd only took the bite because he felt alone and now he has a second family for him to turn to. It's time to repay him.

He calls Isaac. 

 Isaac is terrified. How is he supposed to be okay without Stiles here? Stiles is the one who saved him. Stiles is the one who held him through the nightmares, who talked him through his memories of abuse. He helped Isaac torch the goddamn freezer and even offered to torch the entire house if Isaac had wanted. He held his hand through the doctors visit that had him diagnosed with PTSD and helped him through it. He never let him blame himself for what his dad did or his brothers death. He let Isaac talk about his mom even though Isaac knew it couldn't have been easy for Stiles to listen to since he lost his mom, as well.

He even made Jackson apologize. He'd never seen Jackson look that contrite before. But Stiles never pressured him to forgive Jackson for his inaction. When it came down to deciding whether or not to let Jackson in the pack, Stiles made sure to pull him aside and assure him that nobody would think less of him if he denied Jacksons request. Stiles did everything in his power to help Isaac heal and now he's been taken again. Stiles is stuck in his own world of abuse and pain and there's nobody there to help him.

Isaac calls Jackson.

 Jackson is conflicted. He knows he and Stiles have never been particularly close but it really doesn't make hearing that he's missing any easier. Over the past few months, after the kanima incident, they've gotten far closer than they ever had before. After the kanima, Jackson had been stewing in his own world of misery and guilt and he hadn't had a clue on how to fix it. Surprisingly it had been Stiles who had shown up and helped. He told Jackson the truth about his parents, that they hadn't abandoned him but had died in a car accident when he was very young. He told Jackson that the emotions brought on by his parents assumed abandonment had twisted his mindset which altered the effects of the bite. He constantly reassured him that the kanima was not his fault and he wasn't responsible for any of his actions under the master's influence. He helped train him as a werewolf, helped him find his anchor and control. He saved his life. Despite his crush on Lydia and the god awful way Jackson treated him, Stiles still forced his bruised and battered body into his beloved jeep and drove it through a fucking wall to save him. 

That being said, Stiles did make him apologize to Isaac for everything with his dad. When Stiles had gone into details about what Isaac went through, Jackson wanted to be sick. He never wanted that for him and he knew he would spend everyday making it up to the curly-haired boy.

Stiles also helped him with Lydia. He talked about what Peter had done, how his influence effected Lydia, about trading his life for hers. Jackson could never thank him enough for protecting her, even when he didn't have to. He knew now was the time to show his appreciation.

He calls Lydia.

 Lydia is so done. Why the fuck hadn't she been Derek's first call? She was the smartest of the bunch and she knew they'd certainly need some brain power in figuring out who the hell took Stiles. She can't help but fear for his safety. Ever since he apologized for his weird obsession with her, they've become fantastic friends. He's smart and witty and one of the few people that can actually keep up with her. He traded his life for her, protected her from Peter, and saved Jackson all at a cost to himself and he never expected anything in return. He reassured her that she was never at fault for what she did under Peter's influence and even managed to get the resurrected wolf to apologize to her.

He never forced her to forgive Peter. He never let the wolf near her and if his presence made her uncomfortable, he made him leave. He was also the one that did the research to make sure that whatever Peter had done to her was gone, to ensure that he would never have that control over her again. She knows that now is the time to help him in return.

She calls Peter. 

 Peter is not happy. How the fuck did hunters take someone from his pack again? And Stiles of all people? The one person they're all a bit overprotective of and he's snatched away into thin fucking air. His wolf protests heavily at being constrained when a pack member could be in danger but he knows that wolfing out is the last thing he should be doing. He can't help the unusual show of anger and protectiveness from him, Stiles is his favorite. He meant what he said when he offered Stiles the bite, he likes him.

Stiles is intriguing. He wants power and strength but not at the cost of his humanity. He'll run with wolves but he'll never be one. He's loud and crass and exactly like Peter. He's probably the only person Peter has ever met that can out strategize and out sass him. Stiles is never afraid to put him in his place. Hell, he stood up to Peter even when he was feral. He kept an eye on him, monitoring him even after Lydia began to drop her guard again. He kept the pack safe.

A week or so after the Gerard incident, Stiles pulled him aside and talked to him about feral behavior. How Stiles didn't blame him for his actions, how his nurse had taken advantage of his weakened mental state which had pushed him even farther into psychosis. He let him talk about Laura and his guilt over her death, how at the time he viewed her as a means to an end by now feels her death like a heavy weight upon his chest. Stiles even managed to find a spell, a special spell that would allow Peter to get rid of his memories of the fire and Laura's murder by his hand. The spell had a price though.

Peter had to apologize to Derek. He had to sit the alpha down and talk about everything that happened. He needed to apologize for the death of Laura, for everything he said about Derek's time under Kate's influence, for allowing Derek to be tortured for longer, for everything. Stiles also said he had to accept any consequences Derek deemed fit. That only Derek could forgive him but he was not obligated nor expected to. Peter had honestly expected Derek to kill him, but in the end it never happened. Derek seemed to cling to last remains of his family and Peter was glad he could do the same. His nephew was young and still learning and Peter would protect him at all costs, he wouldn't lose anymore of his family. This also contributed to his anger at Stiles' situation. After the decimation of his old pack, Peter doesn't think he can handle another loss, certainly not one so close to him, after the boy had done so much for him.

Stiles and he had become quite close. They researched together, strategized together, and even hung out outside of pack meetings. They watched old, dumb werewolf movies with Derek on the couch in the new house and pointed out all the mistakes. They bonded over their outsider status in the pack and even now that they've become more integrated in the pack dynamics, they still hadn't lost that kinship.

He calls Derek.

 Derek informs Peter to get the rest of the Pack and meet at the house as soon as possible and then promptly spends the next thirty minutes freaking the fuck out. 

He never wanted this for Stiles. The boy is human, he had no obligation to the pack, he had no reason t be involved, but that never stopped him. Derek could never figure him out. He so quickly put himself in harms way for so many others but never expected it in return. He brought the pack together but refused credit every time. He never blamed Derek for anything. He didn't blame him for Kate, the fire, Gerard, Allison, Peter, none of it. In fact, he made them apologize to him. He made them apologize for things Derek didn't even initially realize were wrong. He also made sure to let Derek know that he wasn't obligated to forgive them, that he could take as long as he needed to before making any decisions. 

When Derek did finally forgive everyone, Stiles got to work. He researched like crazy and made lists and bought books all on how to be an Alpha. He spoke to Deaton and alpha's of other packs and did everything he could to learn as much as possible. He wrote Derek notes and tips and was always willing to listen when Derek got stuck and didn't know what to do next. He made sure the pack knew that he was learning, too, so they wouldn't blame him too much for any mistakes he made along the way.

He also let Derek talk, about anything. He encouraged him to talk about his family, his schooling, New York. He let him talk about the old Peter and Laura and Paige. He let him talk about what happened with Kate and how he's never really dealt with him. Stiles texts Derek everyday at the same time to remind him that what Kate did was not Derek's fault. He's done more for the pack than any of them combined. He's far too loyal for his own good and he's the glue that holds the entire pack together. Derek doesn't know what they're gonna do now that he's gone.

He's knocked out of his thoughts by the pack arriving.

The pack quickly settles in and gets to work trying to figure as much out as possible. Peter and Lydia research, Allison and Chris talk to their contacts, the betas track, and Derek sits around and feels useless for a few hours. Even with most of them out looking, there doesn't seem to be anything that could help until, after about 6 hours of everyone looking, Derek's phone chirps. Derek assumes it's the Sheriff since pretty much everyone else is already at the house with him but when he checks, it's from a number he doesn't recognize. Opening the text, a picture of a bound and gagged Stiles in the back of a car opens up. Stiles' eyes look glassy and panicked, a wound on his head dripping blood down his face, with a few faint bruises on him. Derek can't see much on the low quality picture but it's enough to have him wolfing out in seconds.

He calls the Sheriff.

Seeing his baby boy tied up like that is nauseating. After seeing Stiles' beaten face after Gerard, John had hoped to never experience something like that again. He can see the pitying looks he gets from the deputies as he walks through the station. He knows they all assume that Stiles was taken in connection to his job and crap would that be a lot easier than fucking werewolf hunters. He also knows that they're suspicious as to why the photo was sent to Derek rather than the Sheriff so John says the first thing that comes to mind.

"Derek and Stiles are dating."

He can see the shocked looks from some members of the department and the flustered look on Derek's face, but the alpha seems to understand and assures the officers that John is telling the truth. One of the deputies brings Derek back to question, hoping to find out if someone took Stiles in connection to Derek. The other officers try to figure out how to track the phone number that the picture came from. Since Beacon Hill's is a relatively small town, they don't have any form of advanced computer system or a resident tech guy. John is about to phone another department and ask to borrow their equipment when Derek comes back in from interrogation. 

"You should call Danny" Derek suggests

"Who?"

"Danny Mahealani."

"Who the hell is that?"

"He's Stiles lab partn-"

"Why the hell would I be calling in another high school student?"

"He's really good with tech stuff apparently. Stiles said something about him having been charged with something related to it before. Danny tracked a phone before for Stiles, during the rogue alpha thing."

"You mean the Peter thing"

"Same difference."

John sighed, "I guess he couldn't make things any worse. You'll be explaining the situation to him though. I haven't been in the know long enough to break the news to someone else yet."

And so John called Danny. 

 Danny is surprised when he gets the call from the Sheriff stating they need his 'skill set." While he's glad he's not in trouble for his hacking habits, he's also not entirely sure how they found out. That is, of course, until he arrives at the station and sees Derek Hale.

"Miguel." He says, ignoring the confused looks from the deputies and instead trying not to laugh at the constipated look that crosses the alpha's face when he hears the name. He swears the tips of the wolf's ears turned red.

"Miguel?" The sheriff asks, as he leads Danny and Hale into his office.

"Inside joke. What am I doing here, sheriff? Stiles sign me up for more werewolf work?"

A pained expression seems to come across the mans face before Danny's words registered and both men whipped around to stare at Danny, mouths gaping. It was quite a sight to see. 

"You know?!" Hale barked

"Of course I know. You guys didn't exactly hide it. I found out during the kanima thing. I talked to Stiles about it. He explained everything to me and promised to keep my knowledge a secret until I decided what I wanted. He told me that being in the know can be dangerous and I had to decide for myself what I wanted but that if I did anything to endanger the pack in the mean time, he would kill me."

Hale looks disgruntled at the news but neither man looks particularly surprised at hearing about Stiles' actions. Speaking of which..

"Where is Stiles, anyways?"

The pained look crosses the Sheriffs face again and dread pools in Danny's stomach.

"What happened? What do you need?"

Danny starts trying to track the number as soon as the Sheriff finishes his story. He feels vaguely ill knowing that a friend is depending on him to help save him. Unfortunately, it seems that these kidnappers are no amateurs and know how to encrypt a text message. It seems the signal bounced too many places for him to be able to track it using on simple text message. It'll require more, which also requires Stiles to be missing longer..

 Derek's disappointed that Danny was unable to do anything but he also understands that it's not his fault. He doesn't want another text or anymore contact with the hunters, he wants Stiles back. 

Derek's glad it's summer so at least they don't have to worry about pack members missing schools. He's also thrilled that the pack had asked to stay at the house with him overnight because Derek doesn't want to let any of them out of his sight for the time being. He even goes as far as to grab blankets and pillows and set it up on the living room floor so they could all curl together. Derek needs to be able to watch over all of them. That being said, even with the comfort of the pack around, he still can't sleep.

Around 3am, Derek's phone goes off again. His hand trembles as he reaches to unlock it, not wishing to see the image he knows will be there. But even with the extra time he takes to steady himself, he's not prepared for what he sees.

Stiles is bound and gagged in a chair, the room he's in carefully bland and nondescript, with small injuries littering the parts of his body that are visible. That's not what catches Derek's eye, however. No, It's his unbuttoned jeans, far lower down on his hips than they should be that have Derek's wolf coming out in a matter of seconds.

Once he's calmed down enough to start thinking properly, he calls both the Sheriff and Danny, informing them of the new message. He know's the picture isn't easy for the sheriff to look at but he also deserves to know what's happening to his son. Danny tries to trace the message again but comes up empty handed.

Derek, tired of feeling useless, decides to head out and see if he can track Stiles. He knows the betas couldn't pick up a scent earlier so the odds of him catching one right now are practically nonexistent but he needs to try and do something.

As he basically wonders aimlessly around the preserve, he wracks his mind to think of someone who would want to hurt Stiles specifically when it finally clicks. How the fuck could they have been so stupid? They all talked about it, they all remembered the last time this happened.

Why the fuck didn't any of them go interrogate Gerard?

Derek knows he has to be careful sneaking into the facility. When trying to find a place for Gerard after the kanima show down, they eventually decided on a small, family owned retirement home for supernatural creatures. The family that owned it were well known hunters and the pack knew that they would kill Gerard before they allowed him to escape. Stiles had ultimately left it up to the two remaining Hale's to decide Gerards fate. They knew arrest was not possible due to the endless stream of black goo coming from him and they were definitely not going to let him go. Peter had, surprisingly, left the decision up to Derek. Derek believes it was a sort of olive branch for everything Kate had done to him. Derek didn't want anymore blood on his hands, but he may rectify that today.

 "What have I done to earn a visit from the big bad wolf himself?"

"Shut the fuck up, Gerard. I know you did this."

"I'm sorry, are you talking to me? I'm locked up in this place, leaking black ooze everywhere, sick as a dog. What could I possibly have done?"

"Don't be fucking coy with me, I know what you did to Stiles!"

"Stiles, the doe-eyed boy? My, I haven't seen him in months."

"Months? It's been over a year since the basement. When the fuck did you see him?"

"Why, when he came to visit me, of course."

"Visit you?" Derek asked incredulously, not buying it.

"Yes, visit me. Quite the ballsy pet you've got there, Hale. Not many people would be willing to visit their kidnapper over some fuck buddy."

"You will watch how you speak of him," Derek growled out, "he is neither a pet nor a fuck buddy and you damn well know that."

"Awful defensive over just another pack mate, aren't you?"

"I can understand your confusion since clearly you've never cared about anyone enough to be protective over them. Now quit stalling and tell me why the fuck Stiles would visit you."

"To threaten me of course. Said he knew I wouldn't stop trying to get my revenge, even locked up as I was, and that he would put me down like the 'animal I am' the second the need arises. He also said he wanted to catch a glimpse of me suffering through undignified existence. He went on an awfully long rant about how I deserved far worse for everything I've done, especially the Hale family. I tried to assure him that your survival is clearly my punishment and that you should've burned like the rest of the mutts, but that just seemed to anger him more. Sadistic little bastard, ain't he?"

Derek took deep, calming breaths before responding, knowing Gerard was trying to trigger his shift as a way to prove his point about him being a mindless animal. 

"I know it was one of your men who took him"

"Oh, he's gone missing, has he? Shame, really."

Derek moved quickly, grabbing Gerard by the throat and lifting him from his wheelchair.

"Tell me who took him, now."

"I just don't think I'm going to do that."

"He's human, you have a code."

"Being human didn't stop members of your family from burning alive, now did it?"

Derek dropped Gerard back into his seat before snapping both of his arms, using one of his hands to muffle Gerard's noises of pain from anyone who could listen in. Gerard seemed to take several breaths, obviously trying to get used to the pain before speaking again.

"He sided with you, he chose to run with wolves. I offered him a position as a hunter, a real hunter. Like Victoria or Kate, like Allison should've been, like Chris could never be. He said no, now he faces the consequences of his actions."

"He's innocent. Just because he didn't want to be a hunter doesn't mean he should be punished. He's not a killer."

"His mother would disagree, now wouldn't she."

Derek kneels down, squatting so he's eye level with Gerard before reaching down and breaking both of his legs. He then tips Gerard's chair over, listening to him choke on the black goo dripping back into his throat as he struggles to move with his broken limbs.

"Looks like it'll be a long night for you, Gerard, and hopefully your last. Shame I can't stay to watch" Derek says before leaving, disappointment at the lack of results and relief at Gerard's soon-to-be-death warring on his chest.

 Derek doesn't know what to do. It's been two weeks and they still haven't found anything. The pack is in disarray already. Nobody remembers to buy food for the house, no chores have been done, the Sheriff looks as if he's aged 20 years in record time, pack members are constantly on edge and snapping with each other, and nobody's done anything besides look for clues the whole time. The pictures haven't stopped coming, either.

Once a day, Derek gets a message at a random time, from a number that seemingly can't be traced, with an image attached. The picture is always of Stiles, each having him progressively more injured, and more undressed. Stiles looks strangely vulnerable without socks.

The last picture was by far the worst, it looked like a cattle prod had been taken to Stiles' stomach and he was wearing nothing but low hanging boxers. Derek has analyzed every picture meticulously since they've begun arriving but they've been no help. Derek can't even appreciate getting to see Stiles unclothed due to the circumstances...not that Derek's ever imagined Stiles unclothed before, no siree...he certainly has never imagined what those perky nipples would feel like under his fingers, what it'd be like to kiss down his happy trails, mouthing at his hip bones and sucking marks onto his inner thighs before finally-

-there's a knock at the door, startling Derek out of his thoughts. He can't help the waves of lust and guilt that pour over him at his previous line of thought. He shakes his head, as if to remove the images from his brain, before heading towards the door. He tries to scent the air but can't smell much due to the runes Stiles had put up on the door to prevent other wolves from smelling in. He meant to fix it, but never got the chance before he was taken. He quickly pulls the knob open, prepared for a fight against who ever showed up at 4am on a Wednesday when his eyes land on the knocker. Derek feels like the airs been knocked out of his lungs because standing right in front of him, injured and bleeding and smelling of death and wolfsbane and pain  and wearing just those flimsy boxers still, is Stiles.

"Miss me?" The boy in question slurs out before collapsing like his strings have been cut.

 Derek grabs him before he hits the ground, thankful to avoid any further injuries for the boy, and scoops him into a bridal carry. He doesn't bother getting into the camaro, instead choosing to run, knowing the adrenaline and wolf will make him faster than his car could. He doesn't even bother to notice that he's only wearing a lose pair of sweats, not even socks, as he bursts through the hospital doors.

"Help! I think he's dying!" He cries out, before he's swarmed with nurses who pull the injured boy away from him and place him onto a gurney. He wants to growl at them for touching his mate pack like that, but just barely restrains himself. He dials the Sheriff as they wheel him off where Derek isn't able to follow, and Derek breathes a sigh of relief when he notices Melissa is one of the nurses steering Stiles.

"Hale, did you find something?"

"Stiles."

"What?"

"Stiles. I found Stiles. We're at the hospital. He was just taken into the ER, I'm in the waiting room."

He's not even offended when the Sheriff hangs up, knowing John will be here within minutes.

Derek's proven right when barely five minutes later, the sound of sirens reach the parking lot and the Sheriff bursts into the hospital like a man on fire. Derek is taken off guard however, when the man pulls Derek into a firm hug, and can't help but squirm uncomfortably at the unexpected physical contact. Even with the packs casual touches and the tactile-ness of Stiles, he's still not the best with close proximity. When John finally releases Derek, he heads to the nurses desk to try and get an update on the situation. Derek uses this time to call the rest of the pack and tell them the news.

Over the next hour, Derek sits as the rest of the pack file into the room. They're all at various stages of undress, most in pajamas of some sorts looking like they just woke up. Even Lydia looks out of sorts. Nobody speaks beyond the initial explanation of Stiles' return, instead choosing to sit close and comfort silently.

They wait.

 Scott has to say that waiting might be the worst part. To know that Stiles is so close, is finally home, should be a relief, but Scott can't see him, Scott can't hear or smell him either, the stench of chemicals and sickness and death and noises of lost family members and machines are over riding the senses he's come to rely on. Scott wants to lose it, to demand answers out of someone, but it feels like he's locked in his seat. He can't do anything, completely useless.

What the fuck good is being a werewolf if he can't even protect his own brother? What if he loses Stiles when it feels like he's just gotten him back?

Scott finds himself mesmerized by the sight of drying blood clinging to Derek. His hands stained red, his face as well. His clothing smell of copper and misery. Scott has known for a while how the felt about each other. Even though the pack likes to joke about his obliviousness, you'd have to be blind not to see the love between the two.

Scott just hopes they get a chance to admit it. 

 Peter hasn't felt this useless since he watched his whole life burn away. There's nothing he can do, the fate of yet another family member lying in outsiders hands. He doesn't want to lose Stiles, the boy that's become like a son to him. He certainly doesn't want to see Derek if Stiles doesn't make it. He doesn't think his dark, burned heart could take it. 

Peter paces.

He doesn't know what else do to and he risks shifting if he sits any longer. His wolf does not like that he's sitting idly by while his pack is in danger, it doesn't understand that there's simply nothing left to do. 

Peter knows Melissa doesn't trust him. She's stopped openly glaring at him, but between their history and what he did to Scott, he knows she'll never approve of him. That aside, he knows she's the only one who may know something. He approaches the nurses station located directly outside the private waiting room the pack has been instructed to stay in. 

"Melissa."

She looks at him, concern and wariness in her features, "Peter."

"Is there any news? Anything you could tell me?"

"You're not family."

"This is the only family I've got."

Her features soften at his words, knowing the truth of them. 

"They won't let me back with them."

"Why the hell not?"

"Conflict of interests."

Peter snarls quietly, annoyed at the lack of any news. That is, until, he sees a doctor striding towards the packs waiting room, smelling of Stiles.

"Melissa, he's Stiles' doctor" Peter informs her, pointing with a jerk of his chin. Her eyes widen slightly and then she takes hold of his arm, pulling him towards the waiting room. They just barely make it back inside before the doctor comes in. His eyes fall to the Sheriff and most everyone stands.

 Derek shoots up the second the doctor enters, as does most of the room. He can smell the anxiety racket up in the room, a symphony of racing hearts as they wait to hear the news about their pack member.

The doctor looks to the sheriff, "Are you the father of Mie-uh-Mi-uhm-Mr. Stilinski?"

"Yes. Call him by Stiles."

"Would you like to step outside so I can update you on your son's condition?"

"They're family as well."

The doctor looks dubious and Derek tries to school the surprise out of his features at the sheriff's statement.

"If you're sure."

"I am."

"Stiles is currently in the ICU. He's having difficulty breathing, due to his broken ribs which collapsed one of his lungs. He also seems to have gone through water boarding, which filled his lungs with water which we're draining now. He'll be taken into surgery within the hour to re-inflate his lung and to remove his spleen which seems to have ruptured, most likely due to blunt force trauma to his abdominal area. He has a long recovery ahead of him. His left arm is broken, his right leg as well. He's missing 4 fingernails and it looks like two of his back molars were removed crudely, as well. There's not much damage to his face, just a black eye that looks like it was previously swollen shut. Various cuts and bruises littering his body. He has a concussion, but it seems to already be healing. Overall, we used about 130 stitches, mainly on what looks like whip marks on his back. The tip of one of his ears is, well, gone. About an inch. It almost looks like it was shot? He also has several burns. They're on his back and his abdomen. We are concerned about infection there. They're mainly 2nd degree burns with a few 3rd degree. He also seems to be sleep deprived, malnourished, and dehydrated. We'll need to keep a close eye on him."

Derek could feel his eyes watering, his hands shook as the list of injuries continued to expand. It made Derek nauseous to even think about Stiles going through something like that. The doctor seems to be hesitating with the next part, which only serves to make Derek more anxious. The Sheriff seems to pick up on the doctors reluctance as well.

"Doc?" John asked, his voice shaky.

"There seems to be a mark, carved into the area between his shoulder blades. It looks like this," the doctor says, showing them a drawing of a triskele. Derek knows there's tears streaming down his face now, as it is with most of the room. This is their fault, Stiles was taken because of them, because of Derek.

"He also refused a rape kit."

Derek throws up. 

He doesn't even realize what's happening until the bile is already leaving, as he heaves over the garbage can. He absently realizes that Peter is holding it and must of sensed what was going to happen, at least one of them did. He's never really thrown up before, not unless the wolfsbane thing counts. He's left shaky, his stomach clenching as he thinks about the doctors last line. Rape kit. How could they let something like this happen? Derek allows Peter to move him to a seat where Derek puts his head in his hands. He knows he should be holding it together, should be strong for his pack, but his mind is running in circles too much for him to even think.

"When can I see him?" the Sheriff asks, Derek can hear the tears in his voice.

"He should be out of surgery within the next 2-3 hours. Then we'll have to bring him back to the ICU for post-op procedure. As long as the surgery goes well, we'll finish draining him tonight and he should be allowed visitors tomorrow. We'll be putting him on heavy antibiotics so he'll need to stay in the hospital for several days. We also offer psychiatric help, as well, should the need arrive."

"Thank you."

Derek listened to the doctors retreating steps as silence fell upon the room again. 

 Derek must have eventually fallen asleep because he was awoken the next morning when the doctor returned to the room. Derek once again shoots up, wringing his hands together. The sheriff is standing, as well. Most everyone else besides Peter and Lydia are asleep still.

"Okay, he can have two visitors at a time. Don't stress him out, he may still be groggy from the pain medication we have him on."

Derek and the Sheriff get up to go, their scents a mix of anxiety and relief. Derek tries to prepare himself for the sight of his injured pack member, but it doesn't help. Entering the room feels like a punch to the gut. The Sheriff lets out a choked breathe and Derek can smell the salty tang of tears in the air. He realizes his vision has blurred as tears form in his own eyes, as well.

Stiles looks impossibly small and vulnerable in his bed. 

"Hey guys" Stiles said, his voice rough and gravelly, breaking in the middle. The Sheriff and Derek are across the room in seconds, each sitting on opposite sides of the bed, grabbing onto one of Stiles' hands. Derek tries to take his pain but there's not much there due to the heavy medication Stiles is on.

Stiles turns to his dad, "how's my jeep?" because of course that's the first things he says to his dad.

"It was pretty banged up, not going to lie, but I sent it to the mechanic as soon as forensics cleared it. It's sitting all pretty in the driveway."

"You're my favorite dad in the world."

"I'm your only dad."

"Still, it's the thought that counts."

"Well, you may want to keep those thoughts to yourself because that jeep is staying in the driveway until that cast is off."

"Daaaaad" Stiles whined, sounding like the child everyone accuses him of being.

"Suck it up, kid. Consider it your punishment for damn near giving me a heart attack."

"Speaking of heart attacks, it's back to salad and lean meats now that I'm home."

"Stilesssss" the Sheriff whined, sounding exactly like Stiles did moments ago.

"Suck it up, dad. Consider it your punishment for nearly giving yourself a heart attack."

"Where did I get you from?"

"A rose bush."

"More like a thorn bush."

Stiles, in a startling display of maturity, stuck out his tongue at his dad before turning to Derek.

"Did you at least miss me, sourwolf?" Stiles jokes. Derek lets out a small laugh that's dangerously close to a sob at such a Stiles' line. He presses his lips to Stiles wrist, happy to feel his pulse thrumming along beneath his lips. He grips the hand tighter before turning his eyes to the two Stilinski's in front of him. John seems content to just stare at Stiles, as if reminding himself that Stiles is back and safe. Derek understands the need. He comes to a decision while watching the two.

"I can give you the bite."

This startles both males. John looks at Derek with an unreadable expression on his face, while Stiles looks fond and understanding. Derek's not sure which is worse.

"While I do appreciate the sentiment, I don't want it just for the healing abilities and I've never felt much interest in the bite before. If I ever am to accept the bite, I'd want it to be when I'm in a stable mind set and can accurately weigh the pros and cons. I'm too blindsided right now to take it. Thank you, though."

Derek grudgingly agrees, though he can't help but feel pride for Stiles' logic even in the face of what's happened to him.

The sheriff clears his throat and there's discomfort written all over his face. "Stiles," he begins reluctantly, "you're going to have to give a statement soon."

Stiles turns away, eyes downcast. Both men squeeze his hands tighter as a sign of comfort and understanding.

"They found blood on you, blood that wasn't yours. These men, the hunters, did-are they dead? And please, whatever happened, it's not your fault. Any actions you took are ones of self defense, nobody would dare suggest otherwise."

"There were," Stiles stopped to clear his throat, "there were 5 of them. I ki-two are dead. The other three incapacitated."

Derek begins to stoke the pad of his thumb against Stiles' hand, hoping to calm him. He makes a mental note to send Argent after the other men once they get an address for them, they will not live after what they've done.

"Are you okay? Do you-would you like to speak with Ms. Morrel?" John asks, his voice soft and encouraging.

"No, I'm okay." At their dubious looks he continues, "I just don't want to talk about it...not yet." They relent at the desperation in his voice.

"Okay, son, you don't have to."

Derek gets up, he can hear the rest of the pack standing outside and knows they're dying to visit. As much as he hates to leave an injured pup alone, he knows he can't ask the sheriff to leave his only son.

"I'll be right outside, okay Stiles?" Derek asks. At Stiles reluctant nod, Derek quickly kisses him on the forehead and heads towards the chairs outside Stiles' room.

The pack spends all day visiting, having set up some sort of rotation schedule, until the hours are up and they need to head home. John heads to the cafeteria with Melissa, letting Derek know he'll be gone for about an hour or so, so Derek knows to keep an eye out. Derek vows to do one better and proceeds to sneak back into Stiles' room. He's glad he does, too, since when he gets there, Stiles is in the throws of a nightmare. He's letting out scared whines and whimpers, his body stiff on the bed. 

He hurries over to his bedside, gently shaking Stiles awake. After what feels like an eternity, Stiles shoots up. He's dazed and terrified, his mind not caught up yet. He bares his teeth and snarls at Derek, exactly like a wolf. Derek quickly grabs onto him, his hands on either side of Stiles' face, forcing eye contact.

"Hey pup, calm down. It's just me." Derek watches helplessly as realization dawns on Stiles, and tears begin to form in his eyes.

"Sh, it's okay, let it out." Derek soothes, moving onto the bed with Stiles. He slides behind him, legs spread out so the boy is in between them, his back to Stiles' chest. Derek wraps his arm around Stiles' vulnerable middle and holds tight.

"I was so scared, Der."

"It's okay. They won't hurt you anymore, never again. I won't let them."

"They wanted information on the pack. Wanted to know strengths and weaknesses. They were hoping they could set up a trap for when you finally found out where I was."

"Next time-not that there'll ever be a next time- but next time, tell them. Whatever they want to hear."

"Never."

"Stiles, please. I can't stand to see you like this. To know you were hurt because of us, because of the pack." Derek whines out.

"No, never. You do not get to take responsibility for my actions. I was hurt because I am a member of this pack because I CHOSE to be. It was my choice. Just like it was my choice to not say anything."

Derek pulls the boy closer, at war with himself. He wants to argue, to force Stiles to promise that he'll give up the information next time, but the other part of him is swimming in honor and gratitude at the loyalty shown by such a young boy.

"Stiles," he begins, hesitating, "did they...when they had you, did any of them-were they inappropriately physical with you?" Derek asks awkwardly, not sure how to convey his point but needing to know the answers.

"No," Stiles lies. At the blip in his heart beat, Derek feels his fangs and claws come out. He quickly moves himself backwards to avoid injuring Stiles further. His heart feels like it's in his throat and tears form in his eyes again. Derek hasn't cried this much since he came back to Beacon Hills to find half of his sister.

Stiles obviously realizes Derek sensed the lie as he curls into himself, eyes become shadowed.

"It wasn't...it was just-they only used their hands. It wasn't what the doctor thought...when they realized pain wasn't going to work, they thought...they decided pleasure might be better..." Stiles said, voice carefully blank until the word pleasure. After that, he began to take shallow breaths, almost as if he were hyperventilating. The scent of shame and anxiety and panic fill Derek's nose as the boy falls apart in his lap.

It takes Derek several minutes to figure out what's wrong with him, but then it clicks.

 Panic attack.

 Stiles' mind is a bundle of chaos and panic, flashes of his time in captivity racing through his mind and he tries to discern what's real and what isn't. He can feels large but gentle hands on him, soothing. He can hear a voice, but the words sound warbled and fuzzy, like he's underwater. Oh god, he's dying, he's going to die, oh fu-

-"Listen to me, you're okay. Just breathe"

Stiles shook his head, trying to communicate that no, he can't breathe

"Here, breathe with me, okay?"

Derek takes a deep breath and Stiles tries to copy, but it comes out stutter-y and shallow. Derek continues this for what feels like hours, each time Stiles breathes easier, as the black dots that assaulted his vision slowly begin to recede. Derek continues with calming and comforting statements, as he runs his hand up and down Stiles' back. Stiles can't help but lean into the touch, letting Derek protect him.

"Thanks" Stiles whispered, knowing Derek would hear him.

"Anytime, pup."

"Those phrases-it sounded like they were directly from a textbook"

When Derek didn't answer, Stiles turned to look at him, only to find Derek averting his eyes, a mild blush forming on his cheeks. It was adorable.

"Holy shit, you looked it up." Stiles can't help it if the words come out fond, Derek, the guy who had to be bribed into getting wifi, researched panic attacks for him.

"Shut up" the wolf responded with, though it lacked any real heat.

"You did. Oh my god." Stiles knew there was awe in his voice, but the pieces were finally clicking together in my head, "You looked it up, just in case I needed help again. You worked with Chris and the police, you even let them interrogate you, Scott told me you met with Gerard, hell, you told me to put your back at risk for my own safety."

"Shut up" Derek repeated, this time with a flash of his eyes.

"Holy fuck, you like me back!"

"Shut u-back?"

"Yes, back. Dude, everyone knows I like you. I've never once in my whole life been subtle about anything ever. I'm the least subtle person to have ever lived ever in the whole world, dude."

"Don't call me dude"

"Shut up, oh my god, you like me"

The blush that had finally faded from Derek's cheeks came back full force, even the tips of his ears felt warm.

"Oh my god, your ears are red."

Stiles watched as his blush intensified and Derek turned his head to try and hide it.

Stiles cooes. Derek snarls. Stiles laughs.

"Sorry grumpy gills, but we're definitely talking about this when I'm better. I'm going to woo the shit out of you, Derek Hale."

"You-you want to be with me?" Derek asked hesitantly.

"Of course, have you seen you?"

Stiles watches as the small smile falls from Derek's face.

"No, c'mon. I don't just mean your looks. I mean everything. You're so brave and strong, stronger than anyone I've ever met. You never give up, even when you should. You're smart even if nobody ever gives you credit for it. You're loving and patient and you're the biggest, most stubborn asshole I've ever met. You'd do anything for the pack, no matter how ungrateful they are. You have the driest sense of humor and you're secretly filled with marshmallows and kittens, though you'd never admit it. You're everything I could want and more. I'd be lucky to have you."

"Stiles, you were tortured for the pack. You're more loyal to the pack than anyone else and you're not ever a wold. You're beautiful and idiotic and spazzy. You fall over your own feet and you can't take care of yourself for shit but you're the smartest one in the room every damn time. Hell, you figure shit out before even Lydia does, you beat Peter at chess. You're the most amazing person I've ever met and I'd be honored to have you."

This time it's Stiles' turn to blush.

 After their heart-to-heart in the hospital, Derek and Stiles decided it would be best to keep their budding-relationship on hold until Stiles was healed up. While Derek wasn't thrilled about having his mate (there, he admitted it) so close and not being able to do anything about it, he understood the logic of it. It wasn't fair to spring a new relationship on Stiles while he should be focusing on recovering. That being said, however, Stiles still put up a fight at every step while healing. He never listened to his physical therapist, constantly pushing himself too far. Derek had fought with him many times after Stiles inevitably injured himself. At this point, Stiles had pulled his stitches far too many times to count. Derek couldn't even begin to say the amount of times they had been in the middle of a pack meeting and the scent of blood assaulted their nostrils as Stiles tried to sneak into the bathroom to handle it. It also didn't help that he could hardly focus on the exercises he was supposed to do. Since the hunters hadn't thought to keep up with his medication needs, he had suffered some severe withdrawal from his adderall. They had to ease him back into a proper schedule for it. They also needed to work him up to full meals again. At first, he could barely stomach anything heavier than some soup and bread. Stiles seemed to be desperate to eat curly fries again.

On top of all of that, he also hasn't slept through the night the entire time he's been back. Either his insomnia acts up and he can't sleep or wakes up after only 2-3 hours, or he falls into a nightmare. He refuses any type of help. He won't speak to Ms. Morell, and insists he's fine whenever he's asked. He has, luckily, confided in Derek a few times. He hasn't offered much in the way of details but he did confess to Derek about his escape. He seems to harbor some guilt over killing the two men, despite their actions towards him. Frankly, Derek wishes he could kill them himself. They died far too quickly for his liking. Stiles also seems to believe he 'turned' Derek into a killer due to Gerard. It took several weeks for Stiles to finally concede that Gerard deserved to die long ago by Derek's hand and that he was just simply making up for lost time.

Stiles' immune system is also permanently compromised. While it may get stronger over time, he will always be susceptible to pneumonia during the colder months and is far more likely to get more severely sick from something as simple as a cold due to the damage done to his lungs. Derek vows to always be there to help him, sickness or health. Stiles got hurt protecting the pack and Derek will help him in anyway back, always and forever. Plus, Derek is always looking for an excuse to cuddle with Stiles.

Currently Stiles is supposed to be at his PT but Derek sees his Jeep in the driveway as he pulls in. Derek can't help but roll his eyes, why did he ever think Stiles would listen to him, alpha or not?

Stepping inside he calls out to the boy, "Stiles, what the hell are you doing here?"

Stiles steps out of the kitchen and into the living room, "I took the night off."

"Stiles, you know that's no good for you. You need to stick to a specific schedule."

"Shut up, worry wart, and come here."

Derek reluctantly follows Stiles into the dining room to find a small table set up, electronic candle in the middle with two plates on either side, Derek can also see a bottle of sparkling cider.

"W-What is this?"

"It's our date."

"Date?"

"I did say I was going to woo you, didn't I? Unless, of course, you've changed your mi-"

"No, of course not."

"Then yeah, it's our date. Come sit down" Stiles says, before limping over to his seat. The limp should go away soon with regular PT appointments.

"You shouldn't skip your appointment for me. You should be focusing on recovering."

"Shut up, I went on Wednesday."

"You should really stick to a specific schedule to give yourself a break in the middle."

"Thanks dad."

"You're on a date with your dad?"

"I'm going to hit you-"

"Werewolf."

"-with my bat."

That, actually, shut Derek up. Derek knows what it feels like to be hit with Stiles' wolfsbane infused bat, he certainly does not want to experience that again.

Stiles smiles at him, beautifully. They sit and eat for a while, Stiles seems to be waiting for something. Derek suspects he's waiting to see how Derek reacts to his cooking so he takes a big bite.

He's proven wrong, however, when Stiles takes that time to say "Mates?" apropos of nothing.

Derek chokes. He has to take several large sips of his drink to get it down.

"What the fuck, Stiles?"

"I've been reading-"

"You're always reading"

"I've been reading and came across mates. It talked about how an alpha will feel the need to prove they can provide for their mate, can protect them."

"We're not wolves, Stiles."

"It was in a super special werewolf book from Deaton."

Derek grumbles quietly to himself.

"I'm not talking about this."

"Fine, I guess I'll ask the rest of the pack at the next meeting. I'm sure Peter will answer all my questions."

"Don't" Derek order, eyes flashing.

Stiles laughed before sobering up,

"Am I your mate?"

"You're too young."

"I'm 18."

"You're 17."

"I'm 18, today's my birthday."

"What the fuck, Stiles?!"

"I made the pack keep it a secret, this is my present."

Derek makes a mental note to get Stiles a real present. 

"Now, am I your mate?"

"...yes" Derek practically whispered.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were too young, how was I supposed to know you felt the same?"

"Can't you smell it?"

"I thought you were just aroused, you're a teenager."

"My dad approves of us."

"I know but-"

"You know?"

"He told me when you were sick."

"I can't even deal with him.

"He's a good guy."

"I know, he's just a meddler."

"That's also probably why the deputies still think we're dating. He wanted us to get our heads out of our asses."

"Is that why you took care of me?"

"You're pack, I would do it for all pack members."

"Really? Stiles asks incredulously.

"Okay, maybe not like that but I can't help it. I need to take care of you."

"Wait, this isn't like forced, right? Like it's not like you're some victim of your own biology, right?"

"No, it's not forced. The wolf just knows to look for someone with good characteristics, smart, capable, attractive, and I can form a mate bond with them."

"Your wolf knows I can't carry any cubs for you, right? There's no magical alpha-sperm I have to worry about, right?"

"Jesus christ, Stiles, what the hell? More from your super secret werewolf book?"

"No, that one's from porn. Like, do you have a knot?"

"Porn?! You're watching werewolf porn?"

"You'd be hard pressed to find a kind of porn that doesn't exist."

"Please don't look up any more werewolf porn."

"Why, it's cute seeing you blush like that."

"I hate you."

"You love meee."

I do, Derek thinks.

"Well, since I'm 18 now," Derek watches as Stiles wiggles his eyebrows in a ridiculous manner, "how about you show me your bedroom now?"

"How about we try having a few dates first? What were you, raised by wolves?" Derek says jokingly. 

Stiles tips his head back and lets out a full body laugh. Derek thinks it's the best damn sound in the world.