Chapter Text
Scott watches his best friend and blood brother sit on the side of the bed trying not to nod off. There are dark smudges of fatigue under his eyes which are storm filled and restless. His skin is sallow and clammy and his hair greasy and unkept.
“Hey Stiles,” The younger boy looks up at his best friend and alpha. He tries to define his expression, but his face is blurry and unclear. Scott takes in Stiles’ bleary visage, “what day is it, dude?”
Stiles frowns and looks around the room for a clock or some sort of calendar. He always has a calendar somewhere. Or he has his mom’s old-school clock that would always tell the time and date. He constantly had to reset it when the power went out, but he didn’t care, he loved that old thing. Wherever it was currently. He looks back back at Scott.
“Why, it’s today of course.” he says, trying to muster up some enthusiasm, but being far too weary to do so. Scott sighs and moves from the doorway to sit next to Stiles on the bed.
“You have your phone right in your hand.” Stiles looks down at his phone. It’s not even on, the screen is just black. He can see his reflection in it, his eyes are shaded over. He quickly looks away. Scott sighs. “It’s a school day, and you’re dressed in your pajamas.” Scott indicates Stiles’ outfit of plaid pajama bottoms and a shortsleeve non-matching shirt. His bare feet are slipped into a pair of his dad’s old house shoes.
“It’s fine,” Stiles shrugs, “I’ll just get changed and we can go.” Scott peers at Stiles with searching eyes.
“Stiles, bro, we’re at my house.” Stiles eyebrows raise as he looks around the room again, finally realizing why he couldn’t find that damned clock.
“Shit.” He says as he wipes his sweaty palms over his pants and then across his face. “Sorry bro, I’m just really- I haven’t been-” Scott interrupts with a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder and an assuring squeeze.
“Dude, don’t worry. You can borrow something of mine, but look-” Stiles freezes up, sentences that contain the word “look” but don’t contain the phrase “she’s got the” in front of them, never turn out well for him. “I want you to know that I love you, bro. I will support you in anything, so before I continue, I need to know that you know that.” Scott eyes are pleading and Stiles could never deny them before so he won’t start now.
“Yeah, of course, Scott. You know, I know that. Don’t worry. What’s up, buddy?”
“Stiles, the nogitsune wrecked you… is wrecking you. And while I’m glad you’re alive, you’re not well. You need to get help. I’m not saying this as just your friend, but also your alpha. I’m worried about you and I don’t know what I would do if I lost-” Stiles puts a hand on Scott’s knee and pinches it, a habit leftover from a childhood spent completely together.
“Scott, I get it. And I know, the- the nightmares have been getting worse. They hurt me and I don’t know what to do about it so I don’t sleep. Sometimes I think I’m awake and I’m not and I feel like I’m possessed all over again. The fucked up thing is that I can’t tell a shrink because this is very specific supernatural shit. I don’t mind Deaton, but I’m not really comfortable around him so who does that leave? My dad doesn’t know.” Scott nods along knowingly, absentmindedly draping an arm across his brother’s shoulders.
“I’ll see if I can find some solutions and you can think about choosing from them. And if you come across anything, you can feel free to let me know and I can give my input.” Stiles nods and grins genuinely for the first time in a long time.
“Thanks, Scott. I love you man, and it feels really good knowing that you notice this shit, you know?” Scott pulls Stiles to him in an awkwardly angled bro hug that neither of them mind. Stiles feels a little more energized as he floats through the day and tries to think of a solution to his problem.
That night he walks home and his dad is at the table with a bottle of scotch, nursing who knows what number of drink he’s on. Stiles walks in sadly and moves to pull the bottle away.
“Whatdoyathink… yurrdoin?” The sheriff slurs as he grabs the bottle to his chest and snaps at his boy.
“Dad, I think it’s time to slow down. Why are you even drinking, what happened? This isn’t the anniversary of anyt-”
“You think I need a fucking reason to mourn that she died and left your worthless, pitiful ass in her place?” His dad was suddenly in his face and fully sober, but bright red with rage. “You take everything from me! You took your mother, my fucking heart, won’t let me eat meat, now you’re taking my booze? My coping mechanism for having to be left with YOU!?” and his dad grows in size, hulking and expanding, his bones cracking as he glides towards his only son, menacingly and full of malice.
“You won’t get in my way anymore, Sti-les! You won’t RUIN me anymore STI-LES!” And Stiles does the thing that he does when confronted with an enemy with whom he’s unmatched. He runs. Out the door and into the forest, he can hear his dad galloping, can feel his breath nipping at his heels. He runs until his lungs are out of air and suddenly he’s at a cliff’s edge with the promise of oblivion in front of him and certain disaster behind him. Without thinking he leaps into the endless abyss below.
“STILES! Stiles, son, wake up! Dammit, Stiles! Please, come on!” Stiles shoots up and into his dad’s arms which causes him brief panic. He looks around the room until he sees the soft light of his mom’s old clock.
“What? What the fuck?” Stiles sputters a bit until he collapses, exhausted, into the Sheriff’s embrace.
“That one was a doozy, kid.” His dad says as he smoothes Stiles’ hair back on his head. “We gotta get you cleaned up. Think you can move?” Stiles wonders what his dad means until he realizes he’s covered in sweat and he can smell urine wafting off the sheets.
“Oh my god, no. Oh my god, come on!” Stiles closes his eyes and starts to cry as his dad shakes his head.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed about, Stiles. It’s okay. We’ll get you cleaned up and settled and I’ll just give you an ambien or something so you won’t dream.” Stiles exhales shakily and nods, prying himself out of the bed before skulking towards the bathroom while his dad strips the sheets. He had to do something, but he had no idea what. And that just served to make him feel more hopeless.
***
There’s a pack meeting the next night and afterwards, Derek asks Stiles to stay behind. Stiles nods and waits as everyone files out before going to the kitchen to get Derek a beer and himself a bottled water. Derek looks at the bottled water and raises an eyebrow.
“My dad’s got me on a measured dose of ambien and if I drink with it, it fucks me up. This way I won’t have dreams. I feel like shit in the morning, but at least I don’t cover myself and my loved ones in piss.” Stiles peels at the label of his water and sits on the edge of the sofa while Derek quietly regards him from his arm chair. A moment passes and Stiles finally makes eye contact.
“So what’s up, dude? I’m exhausted and if I don’t start heading home, I’m going to fall asleep on my way there.” Derek nods and takes a swig of his beer before placing it on the coffee table.
“Scott told me that you were looking for some solutions and I think I can help.”
“He told you about that?” Stiles wasn’t really mad, just surprised. Scott and Derek had come a long way and he could safely say they were friends, good friends in fact. But for Scott to tell Derek something so personal… was Stiles really that fucked up?
“You’re not fucked up, Stiles. But what’s happening to you is.” Derek says as he places a hand on Stiles’ knee. Stiles has to agree since he hadn’t even realized he said that outloud.
“The nightmares are pretty horrific, and I’m just losing myself to them.” Derek hums his agreement.
“I went through a similar thing after the fire, which is why Scott told me about what was going on.” Of course Derek knew what Stiles was going through. Stiles couldn’t believe he never thought to ask Derek in the first place. Derek continues, “I was a mess, and I was rebellious and stubborn. I didn’t think I needed help, so when we went to meet with our pack in New York, I was resistant.” Stiles snorts a little, resistant was hardly the appropriate term and both men knew it. Derek raised an eyebrow, but there was no heat to the threat.
“Our pack there tried to help me anyway. We did a thing that’s kind of like sleep therapy, only it usually involved one or more members of the pack. We would huddle together in a bed, provide safety and comfort while we monitored the sleep of the affected one. The first week I still had crippling nightmares, but after that it became easier and easier to deal. Of course I wasn’t ready to let go of the guilt, but I think you’re in a place where you can start healing and I’d be really happy to help you with that, Stiles.”
Stiles narrows his eyes slightly, he’s an optimist, but recent experiences have ramped up his skepticism.
“Cuddle therapy? You think cuddling will help my nightmares? Really, Derek?” Derek smirks slightly, but nods.
“It’s an option, Stiles. One of many. Just think about it though. When do you remember feeling most relaxed and at peace while asleep? It was when you were young and with your parents or Scott, right?” Stiles thinks back to the many thunderstorms Scott and he huddled together during and can’t help the smile on his face.
“Damn we were cute.” Derek shakes his head and rolls his eyes fondly.
As a were, I’m used to the form and etiquette of it. Kira’s a fox, and also with Scott so that might be awkward. Isaac and Liam are young and inexperienced and since I’ve been through it before, I thought I could help.”
“Okay.” Stiles says simply. Derek looks a little surprised.
“Okay? Just like that?” Stiles shrugs.
“Dude, anything is better than now. When do we start?” Stiles pulls out his phone and pulls up his calendar app. Derek grins.
“Thank you, Stiles. I think this is going to really help you.” Derek grins and Stiles exhales, already feeling some tension release. It’s a plan, and that’s half the battle. They set-up a date to start and Stiles heads home to try out some breathing exercises Derek sent him. That night he doesn’t dream, but he also doesn’t lose his voice screaming. He doesn’t count it as a win.
After the next meeting, Scott notices that Stiles is sticking behind.
“What’s up, dude? Does Derek wanna talk to you again?” Stiles shakes his head.
“No, we already talked last week. Hey, thanks for that by the way. Good alpha move.” Scott blushes slightly at the praise, which pleases Stiles to no end. Scott is still adjusting to his role as alpha, especially with Derek now on board. Stiles tries to praise his accomplishments as much as he can and he can see Scott uses that to make better, more informed decisions.
“Thanks bro, and I’m really glad you two talked. So what are you still doing here? You brought a bag?” Scott asks, indicating towards the small duffle Stiles brought with him.
“Yeah, we’re basically gonna try this cuddle therapy thing.” Stiles waits a moment to find mocking in Scott’s eyebrows and is relieved when he sees none. “Umm.. so yeah, he said it helped him and he thinks it can help me too.” Scott nods.
“Yeah, when he went back to New York, his pack tried it, right? That sounds really cool, Stiles.” Scott smiles genuinely and places a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Stiles narrows his vision and waits. After a moment Scott rolls his eyes.
“Jesus, Stiles. You’re a fucking 12 year old. I’m not going to make fun of you. Weres are very tactile and rely on the closeness of a pack to deal with a lot of issues. This makes sense.” Stiles remembers the intense cuddle sessions that Scott corralled him into after he got bit. Even Kira (whose wereside is known to be kind of a loner) loves to hug and touch Stiles as much as decency allows.
“Okay, okay. I know I should be nervous, but I’m actually kind of anxious just to get started.” Stiles says as he runs his hand through his hair. Scott grabs his arm and pulls him in for a hug.
“I’m proud of you man, no worries. Give me a call and let me know how it went or if you need anything, okay?” Stiles grins as his best friend leaves and suddenly it’s just he and Derek left. There’s a pause, but it’s not necessarily uncomfortable, just… expectant. Derek breaks the silence with a single clap of his hands.
“So, if you’re ready to turn in, you can get changed upstairs and then come down and we can get started.” Stiles nods and heads towards the staircase. He makes it to the top and goes inside of Peter’s old room to change.
As he pulls his pajama bottoms over his boxers and slips into his long sleeve tee, he thinks about what to expect. Derek and he have been talking about what will happen, but oddly Stiles doesn’t feel any more prepared.
“You’re just going to hold me?” He remembers asking Derek, later in their initial conversation.
“I’m going to start out holding you, then I’ll monitor your activity and make adjustments as needed. If I see you slipping too deep, I’ll try to wake you up and it hopefully it will be less jarring than what you’re experiencing now.” Stiles winces slightly at the memory of yet another wet bed a few days prior.
He wants this to work, needs it to. The drugs are not a solution and he’d be this close to taking up drinking if he didn’t have to keep hiding the booze from his dad. He walks into Peter’s old bathroom and splashes water on his face from the sink.
“Alright big guy, let’s do this.” He peptalks to himself before reaching for a non-existent towel.
“Derek! Where are the towels?” He asks in a normal voice, knowing Derek’s hearing should be able to pick up the question. He hears nothing after a minute and opens the door sticking his head out.
“DEREK!?” He yells into the hallway.
“Jesus, Stiles! It’s a small loft, you don’t have the ye- oh. You’re in Peter’s bathroom, it’s… sound and scent proof.” Stiles looks back behind him and takes in the sleek all white bathroom with a gigantic shower and a bench inside. Uggh, Peter. Stiles heads back downstairs to see Derek sitting on the edge of the bed. Derek looks up and jerks his head to the right.
“I thought I’d let you get comfortable and then I can just slip in.” The fact that Stiles doesn’t make a lewd comment is just a testament to how nervous he really is. He nods and climbs into the bed, at first falling in the middle and facing away from Derek. He shifts a little and finally ends up a little more right of center facing towards Derek. He looks down the bed to his bedmate and nods.
Derek stands and walks around to the other side of the bed and scoots in close behind Stiles. He brings an arm around the boy, closing in and pulling him into his embrace. Stiles settles back into Derek’s chest which is surprisingly comfortable. It’s not as hard as it once was, but it’s still well defined and supportive. The natural warmth emanating from Derek envelopes Stiles and he falls asleep easily, using Derek’s light breaths as his own white noise.
“Sweetheart? Sweetheart, it’s time to wake up now.” Stiles’ eyes blink open as the sun floods in through the windows making it hard for him to see. He tries to put a hand in front of his face to shield himself from the rays, but can’t seem to move.
“Mama, I’m so warm, can’t I have just five more minutes?” He can see her shape through the light. See her long, brown hair hanging down; he knows if she leans closer it will tickle his nose. He wriggles his nose in anticipation.
“Stiles, you have to wake up. You have to, baby. Before it’s too late.” He furrows his brow and looks at his mother again, her outline. He can’t see her face, not anymore, not clearly; but he knows this is her. There’s something familiar about her. Something warning.
“Stiles, wake up. Stiles… WAKE UP!” Stiles startles and can feel his little feet hit the floor. He walks towards his mother who is now standing at the door of his room. He walks towards her as she floats backwards towards the stairs. The sun is still bright and seems to follow him wherever he goes. He feels her warmth, but suddenly it grows cold.
“Sti-les! You selfish little bastard. You think that by keeping her in your head, I can’t get to her? I will get to her and then we’ll get rid of you!” Stiles wrenches his eyes shut, trying to keep out horrible vision unfolding before him.
“Baby, baby you have to wake up! Wake up and run, Stiles! Wake up and RUN!” Stiles finally opens his eyes and sees his dad in front of him, only it’s not his dad, it’s a demon. It’s what Stiles imagines the Nogitsune would look like without the wraps over its face. Stiles’ stomach roils as he tries to back away from the monster that is steadily approaching. As he backs up he feels something tighten around him.
“You should listen to your mommy, Sti-les. Your mommy looooooves you, widdle, widdle Sti-les.” Stiles can feel the tears heating up his cheeks, as the tightening around him increases. He feels like he’s on the edge of a panic attack, but instead of hurting him, the cage that seems to be surrounding him is calming him down. Like a forcefield shielding him from the enemy. The enemy that was getting closer and closer.
“Aren’t you going to run, boy? Because once I get my hands on you… it’s not going to be nice and soft like your little-” and Stiles feels his forcefield get stronger. By instinct he tries to run, but he’s being held in place. The monster lopes towards him, fast and faster until he’s an inch away from his face.
His… well, not his mouth, but his face opens up and blood soaked maggots spill out in front of him. Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the attack. He waits. He waits.
He opens his eyes and looks around the room. He tries to move, but a pair of arms and a leg hooked over his own keep him still.
“Stiles? Are you back? Are you okay?” Stiles feels Derek’s breath against his neck; can feel the flutter of his lips against the shell of his ear.
“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m…” Derek waits a beat before giving Stiles a squeeze.
“How are you?” And Stiles is so overwhelmed by how fine he is, he nearly forgets to answer. Normally at this point he would be trying to fit himself together, mashing misshapen pieces together to fit. But now he doesn’t even feel like he’s fallen apart.
“I’m fine. I’m really fine. Thank you, Derek.” Derek loosens his grips and removes his leg from around Stiles’. He starts to back up, but Stiles won’t let go of his arm. Derek doesn’t make him. He simply settles in loosely and rubs soothing stripes up and down the boy’s arm.
“I’m glad to help, Stiles. Try to go back to sleep, let me know if you need anything.” Stiles nods and closes his eyes, pleasantly surprised as he goes back under. He doesn’t remember dreaming, but it’s not unpleasant, and he sleeps for the rest of the night.
He wakes up the next morning well rested and ready to meet the day. He hasn’t felt this good in ages. He walks to the kitchen and sees Derek preparing breakfast.
“Sleep well?” He asks as he cracks eggs to scramble. Stiles steals a piece of bacon and shrugs.
“Cuddlebugs, eh? Who knew?” Derek snorts and slaps Stiles hand as he tries to grab a sausage patty.
“I think last night went well, but you might notice an increase in the need for the comfort. That’s normal, so don’t fret. Your body and mind will adjust when it’s ready, there’s no rush.” Stiles nods and exhales. While he was happy they finally found a solution that worked and didn’t make him want to kill himself, he still knows there is a long journey ahead.
“Derek, thanks again for doing this. You’re really doing me a huge favor.” Derek blushes slightly and shrugs.
“It helps me too, Stiles. I didn’t accept the help when I needed it. Giving it is kind of my way of dealing with that. I don’t know, I hate that you need it, but I’m really glad you’re letting me help you deal.”
“Dude, what you’re giving me is so far past dealing, it’s not even funny. But I’m glad I’m also helping you. Makes me feel less helpless.” The two grin at one another.
“Good. So we’ll meet again next week?” Derek puts a plate in front of Stiles and withholds his fork until he answers. Stiles grins.
“It’s a date, baby!” Derek rolls his eyes.
“I’m not your baby. And don’t call me dude!”
They laugh and talk some and later that morning, Stiles packs up and heads home. His dad is in the living room trying and failing at being casual about Stiles’ entrance. Stiles rolls his eyes fondly.
“Hey dad.”
“Hey kiddo, so… so how’d it go?” Stiles nods and heads for the stairs.
“It was good, dad. It was really good.” His dad smiles a smile of a parent who is happy, but cautious. He lets it go and allows his son to go upstairs and get settled.