[said i was gonna focus on drafts, didn’t do that, started a lame new show, got tired BUT my brain still comes up with little things]
“do you.. do you want a hug?” Stiles asks awkwardly. he’s standing in the center of the loft across from Derek who looks distressed, like he’s been in a panic for hours. Derek’s face looks pained, there’s tears staining his cheeks that are flushed red, his fingers flexing and clenching.
and Stiles is always so careful about how he touches Derek. he often remembers how he’d pull his hand away from Derek’s arm after a quick glare from the man. the most Stiles could get away with over the years were brief touches, playful pats against Derek’s shoulders or chest, nudges, or a light comforting squeeze with a hesitant hand.
but here he was, offering Derek comfort in the form of an embrace. Stiles truly wouldn’t be surprised if Derek said no or pushed him away. but color him surprised when Derek steps forward, Stiles’ eyebrows shooting up as Derek quietly nods. “um, ok, big guy..” Stiles stammered before slowly closing the gap and wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders.
Stiles damn near shivers when Derek’s own arms wrap around his waist, the grip around him tightening. he felt Derek inhale deeply against his neck, his shoulders rising and falling, his fingers flinching and gripping at Stiles’ hoodie.
“its okay,” Stiles whispered, daring to reach his hands to the nape of Derek’s neck, his fingers lightly scratching at his hair. he continues to rub and scratch gently when Derek doesn’t pull away or protest.
Stiles didn’t know what happened to put Derek in this state. he doesn’t press it, at least not now, not yet. Stiles just holds Derek a few moments more. until Derek’s stopped shaking and pulls away.
there’s a quiet, “thank you,” under Derek’s breath, unable to look Stiles in the eye. Stiles just nods, nervously rocking on his feet before quipping, “yeah, man, anytime.”
Stiles is surprised again when he gets a text from Derek; it’s vague as most of his messages are. “come over,” is all it said. Stiles didn’t hesitate, which was even more shocking to himself. he grabbed his keys, pulled on his sneakers and made his way to the loft.
when he arrived, Derek seemed shaken up again. there weren’t tears, but Derek was pacing, that same pained look from last time.
“hey, Derek? what’s up?” Stiles asked, watching Derek stop pacing and his eyes shooting up at him. Derek didn’t respond, just sat at the end of the couch, elbows leant against his knees and anxiously twiddling at his thumbs.
the silent request hung in the air and Stiles quickly caught on. he kicked off his shoes before stepping down towards the couch, sitting on his knees against the cushions. Stiles moved cautiously as he began to pull Derek into a hug, just in case he was getting his signals mixed up. but Derek falls against him easily, a loud sigh of relief exiting the werewolf as he laid his head against Stiles’ shoulder.
Stiles squeezed and held on tighter, trying to calm that shaking feeling Derek was giving off again. “.. is it.. panic attacks?” Stiles quietly questioned. once again, Derek gave no response; his hands only finding their way around Stiles’ hips and waist in attempts to pull him closer. there’s another deep inhale and Stiles nods. “we don’t have to talk about it,” he assures Derek.
they sit tangled in each other for almost an hour. at one point, Stiles thought Derek had fell asleep. when they broke away, Derek quietly thanked him again before Stiles left the loft. “like i said,” Stiles smiled softly, “anytime.”
anytime would end up being oftentimes. “come over,” was always the text, sometimes accompanied with a “please.” Stiles was there regardless of politeness or maybe not even needing a text. he’d stay behind after pack meetings, waiting on the couch for Derek to come lay across his lap. sometimes he’d immediately drive over after class, throwing his backpack somewhere against the stairs, finding Derek and pulling him into a hug first thing. sometimes the embraces lasted a few minutes, sometimes an hour or more; only breaking away to pee or eat something. but Derek would be right back on him soon after, yanking Stiles into a hug, burying his nose in Stiles’ hair or neck and breathing in deeply.
sometimes Derek would be completely fine; relaxed and talking in short bursts, but still requesting to be held in much less words and nervous eye contact. sometimes Stiles would find Derek distraught; eyes watered and chest heaving, nails digging into his own palms that Stiles tries to break away. “hey, look at me,” Stiles softly calls, careful as he pries Derek’s fingers out of a tight grip and interlocking his own fingers in his hands for replacement. and Derek would listen, green eyes shooting up at him, his hands tightening around Stiles’. “come here,” Stiles says, already positioning themselves on the couch with Derek’s back to Stiles’ chest. Derek shuffles between Stiles’ legs until he’s laid back comfortably, resting his head against Stiles’ chest. without thought, Stiles begins combing his fingers through Derek’s hair, scritching soothing patterns against his scalp with blunt nails.
Derek hums, taking Stiles’ free arm and pressing it against his nose before inhaling deeply. Stiles doesn’t need to ask why Derek keeps doing it, he’s figured out long before that his scent gave Derek some form of comfort. Stiles wasn’t sure what he smelled like under cheap colognes, detergent, and old spice bodywash but whatever it was, calmed Derek down greatly and made him feel safe. Stiles also already understood that for Derek, he was his anchor. again, he wasn’t going to question it, was just a little selfishly happy to be that for Derek. it doesn’t take Stiles very long to realize that he’d probably drop everything for Derek — didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing.
eventually Derek does admit to the panic attacks, how they come and go without any rhyme or reason. Stiles doesn’t try to make it make sense for him, only offers a listening ear and some advice if Derek’s willing to hear it. “well, you’ve got the deep breathing down,” Stiles says lightly, “counting sometimes works for me; i check my fingers and toes. i bought this peppermint oil that i dab on my wrists and i breathe it in— the smell is pretty strong, it kicks me out of my anxiety attacks. or i do the 333 method.” “what’s that?” Derek asks. Stiles mindless taps his fingers against Derek’s chest where Derek is still laid between his legs.
“it sounds pretty easy but it’s just naming three things you can see, three you can hear, and moving three parts of your body. i wiggle my fingers a lot, tap my feet, or roll my shoulders.”
“does it always work?” Derek asks and Stiles shrugs behind him. “sometimes,” Stiles answers truthfully.
“i think ill stick with this.. if that’s okay,” Derek responds. Stiles chuckles in the quiet of the room, rubbing soothing circles against Derek’s chest before saying, “sure thing.”
“thank you,” Derek tells him before its quiet in the loft again.
at some point, they graduate from hugs and awkward tangled limbs cuddling on the couch to spooning in Derek’s bed.
it was barely discussed and kind of just… happened. Stiles had gotten the text almost at midnight. he rolled out of bed, not bothering to get dressed out of his pajamas of shorts and an oversized tee — just crocs and the keys to his jeep.
he was over in minutes, finding Derek sitting shirtless at the edge of his bed, fingers gripping at the mattress. “you okay, big guy?” Stiles asked, immediately kneeling in front of Derek. Stiles saw Derek’s eyes begin to go misty as he shook his head. “hold me?” Derek asked out loud for once, his voice soft and broken it made Stiles’ own heart drop. Stiles nodded, kneeling in closer and wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist. Derek wrapped his own arms around Stiles’ shoulders, his nose immediately in his hair and breathing in. Stiles relished in the feeling of Derek’s muscles flexing under his touch but tried not to make it too obvious.
when Stiles recognized that Derek was calm and settled, he moved off the floor and was about to grab his keys. he feels himself pulled back by Derek, his eyes wide and pleading as he asks, “stay the night?”
Stiles thought it over for a brief second; rationalizing that it’d be okay to skip a few lectures tomorrow, that work wouldn’t need him right after. Derek needed him tonight and Stiles decided in that moment that it was more important. so he said yes, climbing into Derek’s bed and wrapping his arms around the werewolf. Stiles sighed contented as Derek wriggled into his embrace, his large frame being Stiles’ little spoon.
now it was Stiles who planted his nose against Derek’s hair and inhaling. they’d soon fall asleep to the sound of each others breathing.
and they’d wake up in a tangled mess of each other’s limbs the next morning. Stiles apologizing for being a wild sleeper and Derek sheepishly smiling, “i don’t mind.” minutes after, Derek would roll out of bed to make them breakfast. they’d sit together eating eggs and bacon while watching old episodes of seinfeld; Derek glancing at Stiles as he tapped away at his phone to send off messages to his boss. Stiles clicks his phone off, playfully nudging at Derek and telling him not to worry.
when they’re done, Stiles washes their plates and saunters back to the couch, gesturing for Derek to lay down with him. both of them become so used to it that they know which positions on the couch are more comfortable for cuddling.
since then, Stiles spends the night at Derek’s more often than not. so much more often that he bought a second toothbrush to keep in Derek’s bathroom, spare pajamas, his favorite pillow (that Derek may or may not use when Stiles isn’t over).
(and if Stiles sometimes wakes up, realizing he’s poking Derek in the back, that’s nobody’s business.)
it takes the pack a minute to realize their whole arrangement. their suspicions coming to light on a pack night when they witness Stiles and Derek curled in on each other at the end of the couch. none of them able to focus on the movie and scott just blurting out, “are you two dating?” Stiles rips his eyes away from the screen to look at scott in confusion. “no?” he answers before looking to Derek who’s expression is blank except for raised brows at scott.
“okay, then what is.. this?” Lydia points, gesturing to their whole cuddled position. “we’re comfortable,” Stiles shrugs. “Stiles, this whole place smells of you. Derek smells of you and you smell like him,” scott argues. Isaac shrugs a shoulder, nodding in agreement, “when i went to the bathroom i saw Derek has two toothbrushes. the other one is for sure yours. did you move in?” “oh my god,” Lydia huffs in laughter, “have you guys been dating for so long behind our backs that you’re now living together?”
Stiles flails, nearly hitting Derek in the face before firmly saying, “you guys, we’re not dating!” “then what are you doing,” scott asks, eyes narrowed and head tilted. “it’s not really your business.. or any of y’alls business what we’re doing,” stiles said defensively. “fuckbuddies,” jackson quips out of nowhere and Stiles throws an empty soda can at his head, missing completely.
“a little help here,” Stiles says to Derek. Derek returns a soft look towards him, his thumb rubbing at Stiles’ hip from under his shirt. Derek’s mouth parts and closes as if he’s about to say something but nothing comes out. Stiles jolts when Derek’s lips are suddenly in his but he finds himself unable to pull away. his eyes flutter shut, angling his head to kiss Derek deeper as his hands find themselves against Derek’s face, his own thumbs gliding across the man’s scruffy cheeks.
“gross,” the hear jackson say just as scott clears his throat. Derek and Stiles break away and looking to each other before Stiles looks at his pack awkwardly darting their eyes away or suddenly finding the movie so interesting. when Stiles looks back at Derek, flummoxed, Derek grins slightly, “i’ve been meaning to ask you, anyways.”
“we are so talking about this later,” Stiles says, feeling his face get hot as a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “and i get to be little spoon tonight,” he states before kissing Derek again, ignoring the fake coughing, groans, and lydia’s giggles.
“sure thing,” Derek says against Stiles ear when their lips finally pull away.
[those redbulls did absolutely fuckall for me except send me to bed at 4am and i still didn’t finish anything expect this just NOW]
ellievsbear
titsay
2087
annaxmalina
andulkaphoto
romaincrisis
discoholicmusic
