Miles to go Before I Sleep
Title: Miles to go Before I Sleep
Rating: PG
Spoilers: season 1 and 2
Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, humour, pre-slash
Summary: Stiles is sitting in a diner at some ungodly hour because he can't sleep, because he keeps seeing his car crushing some poor man to death and then Derek walks in and things get interesting.
Author’s Note: Not beta’d sorry
Miles to go Before I Sleep
Its two o’clock in the morning, there is light rain coming down, the early storm has past and in the morning the sun will come out and the only reminder of the night will be the damp streets of Beacon Hill. But that’s still hours away, its dark and cold out and somewhere behind the thinning clouds is a waning moon. Stiles grips his mug harder, the watered down coffee has gone cold, he’s been lost in his thoughts, a mild panic for the last half hour. Or maybe he hasn’t really stopped being freaked out since he saw his jeep crush some poor guy while he lay paralysed, helpless... terrified.
That feeling won’t leave him, it’s like the poison is still under his skin, leaving him paralysed in fear. But that thing, the Kanima, is gone now; he isn’t watching his jeep slowly descend on some poor guy who had the misfortune to come across Stiles and the strange supernatural things that have followed him around ever since Peter Hale turned Scott. A light touch to his arm has him snapping back into focus, Mary; the waitress is refiling his cup with fresh coffee and placing a free piece of apple pie onto the faded and somewhat sticky table top.
“Thanks” he murmured, mug already pressed to his lip to fulfil his need for caffeine. He knows he should be at home, that if he’s dad knew he was out and on the verge of a panic attack he’d freak out, then probably ground his ass. Though with all the ‘mysterious’ deaths lately he’s father had been working late, trying to find a killer that would never be caught. Welcome to Beacon Hill, home of werewolves and werewolf hunters and a giant killing lizard, yeah that would bring in the tourists.
God it’s a wonder he can’t sleep. Okay the Adderall and the four, no, wait, the five coffees, weak though they are, haven’t helped the matter either. But every time he closed his eyes he found himself back in that garage or trapped in the school pool, the Kanima prowling around on dry land while he desperately tried to keep Derek afloat. He’s not sure which event made him feel more helpless, more human. It doesn’t matter really, it’s over, it’s all over.
“Stiles?”
Oh my God could Derek not do that? Actually could he not be here at all because just the sound of his voice makes him feel cold, makes him taste the chlorine in the back of throat and hear the sound of claws against tile. With the flash of memory his heart rate increases, he can feel the hand of fear begin to squeeze the air from his lungs, the prickle of ice at the base of his spin that is warning sign.
“Stiles?”
With strength that he thought he was out of for tonight he pushed away the rising panic, pulled in a deep breath in focused on his trembling hands. “Hey Derek” he finally said, briefly glancing up at the Alpha but not long enough to take in his expression, he’s sure it would be the usual broody look anyway. “What brings you here?”
The werewolf sits down opposite Stiles, because clearly there is no better place to sit, the diner is mostly empty, apart from a few truck drivers that sit at the counter. There are plenty of empty tables, far away from Stiles, but Derek is apparently staying because he’s ordering coffee now. He’s also not answering Stiles’s question, not that that is unusual but still he did stop him from drowning only a couple of hours ago.
“You look tired.” Derek said, arms folded on the table, leather jacket shinning in the dim lights and he looks the perfect picture of dark and mysterious. “You should be home asleep, Stiles.”
“Geez thanks dad” Stiles grumbles, sticking his fork into the apple pie and breaking off a piece. “Since when did you care anyway?”
Derek doesn’t answer, he growls though, typical response really, stupid sour wolf.
Mary returns with a fresh pot of coffee, fills Derek mug then goes to refill Stiles’s but Derek reaches out, a large hand preventing Mary from pouring the coffee. “I think he’s had enough.” Mary nods then walks away, with the coffee, the coffee that Stiles really wanted more of, fucking Derek. “I’ll take you home.”
The teen looks up, half expecting to see someone else sitting before him but no; still Derek Hale, and he just offered him a lift home. Must be grateful he didn’t let his fury ass drown. Not that Stiles had even thought of doing that, not even for half a second. He may not like Derek, hell the guy was always threatening him or pushing him into walls, but he could never just let him die. Not when he got shot by the wolf bane bullet and not tonight. Guess Stiles was just a good guy, or an idiot. He wasn’t sure yet.
“I don’t want to go home” he finally replied, fidgeting with the sleeves of his red hoodie.
“Why? Is everything ok at home?”
Finally, finally Stiles looked up at the wolf, Derek’s eyes were opened wide, no sign of the new red glow, nothing but natural colour. There was also genuine concern, he was actually worried about him, that something at home was bothering him. “Everything’s fine.” He paused to lick his lips, waiting for a change in the Alphas expression “it’s just quiet... and lonely.”
Derek nodded, like he understood and he probably did, having been living in the empty, charred remains of his family home for the last couple of months, yeah, it must have been lonely.
“Then where do you want to go?” Derek asked, drinking down the steaming liquid in one go.
“Uh...” Where did Stiles want to go at two in the morning? With Derek Hale he might add. Probably nowhere, no, definitely nowhere. He didn’t want to go home though, to that too big house, with its creaks and shadows and roomful of memories. He’d really rather just stay here, safe, away from werewolves and everything associated with them, apart from Scott of course, he’s best friend is the only werewolf he’ll tolerate. Actually that’s where he’d like to be, with Scott, reading comics or playing video games. That wasn’t going to happen though, Scott had Allison now.
And Stiles was left alone or left to Derek, so it seemed at the moment. He really, really didn’t want to go home, so that left here or Derek. For some reason, he chooses Derek. “I don’t know, apart from this place, nothing is open at this hour.”
Derek smirks, that wolfish grin that bothers the teen. “I have just the right place in mind.”
XxXx
Ok so the woods weren’t exactly what Stiles thought Derek had in mind, he pictured more of a secret gentleman’s club or something cool and mysterious but of course a werewolf would take him to the woods. The cold, damp woods. They’d left Derek’s car behind about five minutes ago, Stiles was slowly trekking through the undergrowth, trying very hard not to trip on roots and rocks or whatever else littered the Beacon Hill forest floors.
Derek was a few paces a head, easily navigating his way through dark night, not even bothered by the uphill climb that had Stiles sucking in deep breaths. Really, this wasn’t a good idea, especially since he was just waiting for his next panic attack to happen.
“Are we there yet?” Stiles asked then promptly tripped over a log “Oh my God Derek I can’t even see where I’m fucking going, are you trying to kill me?” He heaved himself to his feet; peeling of wet leafs from his hands and knees. “You know, I don’t have werewolf eyes like you, I can barely walk without falling over when I can see in front of me so what made you think this was a good idea, huh?”
Derek growled, stomped towards the teen, and oh my God he was finally going to kill him! Of course that didn’t happen, because maybe Derek would just threaten to kill Stiles, because maybe he liked or at least tolerated him. Either way Stiles found himself being picked up in the wolfs arms, bridal style he might add, then marched up the cliff at an alarming speed before being placed steadily on the ground.
It took Stiles a few minutes to get his bearings back, because Derek broody bad mannered werewolf Hale just carried him, like some sort of precious cargo, up a freaking cliff. “Ah what... what the hell was that about?” Stiles finally asked, eyes boring into the back of the werewolf who was conveniently staring out at Beacon Hills below.
“I owed you.”
Stiles blinked. He owned him... for the pool? “Oh, so that was my thank you for not letting you drown? Easier to carry my skinny ass up a cliff then actually say “Hey, Stiles thanks for holding my heavy werewolf ass afloat for two hours.”
Derek was death glaring him again, figures.
“Is your face always set to glare or do you come with a happy setting?”
“Shut up, Stiles.”
Stiles did shut up, but not because he was afraid of Derek, ok maybe he was a little or a lot but he was too tired and sore to bother saying anymore. He dropped down on to a nearby boulder, it was slightly damp but it was this or the ground. In a few short moments Derek sat down next the teen, a crisp breeze blowing across them, rattling leafs and chilling to the bone. Stiles shivers, each bone aching from the abuse it was put under earlier, God he doesn’t know how he’s still standing, he should be sound asleep.
But the moment he closes his eyes he can see the poor mechanic lying helpless, begging to be saved, spared from such a cruel fate and Stiles had to watch, he saw a man die. And like that he can’t breathe, he’s been thinking about it all night, seeing the pool of blood, hearing bone break but it’s really just hit him. He’s been running on adrenalin since then, since the pool but now it’s all gone out in smoke and he can’t breathe.
Oh God he can’t breathe.
He knows this is a panic attack, he’s had them countless times and they are awful and never, ever get any easier. He’s trembling and nauseas, his fingers are numbing as a chilling cold sweeps over him and it has nothing to do with the wind. His heart is beating like a drum, echoing in his ears and he feels on the verge of collapse. It feels like dying, like these are his last breaths, his very last seconds on this earth but no matter how fast and hard his heart beats or how sick and cold he gets he knows deep down he’s not about to die. Nah, they’d be too easy. The universe will string him on for another few years or so, until he can no longer survive in this world full of wolves.
“Stiles, you need to breathe.”
Derek’s voice reaches to him through the fog and Stiles wants to yell at him, because he knows that has to breathe, it’s an important part of life for the non-werewolf folk.
“You’re safe Stiles, ok. I’m right here.” Derek wraps his leather jacket around the teens shaking shoulders, rubbing warmth into him while he searches his mind for the right words to say. “Stiles, tell me what I need to do.”
Some of the effects are lessoning but it still feels like there is a hand wrapped tightly around his throat, a voice whispering fears into his mind. “J... just don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Derek moves to sit next to Stiles, wrapping a strong arm around his small shoulders, Stiles smirks inwardly, he always knew Derek was a secret softy wolf. “Breathe in through your nose and out with your mouth.” Stiles was already doing this but having the werewolf talk is calming him, his voice wrapping around him like a warm blanket. “We’re safe now Stiles, we’re safe.”
Derek holds Stile’s until his breathing settles, it takes about ten minutes but once the teens heart isn’t threatening to explode through his chest he falls lifeless against the wolfs side. He’s exhausted, scratch that, he’s beyond exhausted. Panic attacks leave him boneless, starved of life; they are like a Dementor’s kiss, leaving only misery and pain in their wake. And Derek’s looking down at him, a brow quirked in confusion or maybe in bemusement. Maybe he hasn’t seen Harry Potter and he would ask him, tell him that its awesome but he’s too tired and Derek is crazily warm and screw thoughts because its lights out.
XxXx
When Stiles wakes up he’s in his own bed, safe and sound under the covers with the late morning sun flittering in through his blinds; last night must have surely been a dream. Right? Sitting up takes an insane amount of effort because every muscles hurts, it’s like he’s been crushed by a brick wall or you know, saved a werewolf from drowning. There is a trickle of fear with the memory of Derek, something that is common after a panic attack, lingering fear and a dark depression. He’s lucky he’s dealt with it enough times to know how to bury these emotions and there is plenty to distract him, like how did he get home?
He honestly can’t imagine Derek the sourwolf bringing him home, taking off his shoes and tucking him into bed. Yet the evidence is right here. He looks to the alarm clock on his nightstand, it reads ten-fifteen and it’s Thursday and he has school and surely his dad would have tried to wake him, right? A foggy memory surfaces, his dad shaking him awake, Stiles mumbling something about giant lizards and panic attacks.
He’s not sure what his father made of the giant lizard comment but a panic attack was enough to get him a day off school, of course he’d have to explain why he had one later but he’d becoming quiet good at lying, he wasn’t proud of that. With a deep sigh the teen flops back down, ready to fall back into a peaceful sleep when he sees Derek Hale climbing in through his window. It may or may not have given Stiles a heart attack.
“Derek what the fu-”
The wolf glared at the teen, pressing a finger to his lips while pointing downwards with his other hand. “Your dad is downstairs.”
“So? He’s old, his hearing is fading.”
Derek smirked, he actually smirked. “He just wants you to think that.”
“Oh my God was that Derek Hale being funny?” Stiles exclaimed, well as much as one could while keeping their voice low “Someone mark this day as holiday so it can be remembered.”
“I see you’re feeling better then” the wolf moved to sit on the bed beside the boy.
“On the surface, underneath I feel like shit.” Stiles sat up, drawing his knees to his chest then wrapping his arms around them “Panic attacks always leave you feeling terrible afterwards.”
“Yeah, I, uh looked them up online” Derek shrugged, like it was no big deal but to Stiles it was, a very big deal. “I didn’t know anything about them really.”
“But now you do” Stiles said, nodding.
“Yeah, now I do” the wolf paused, looking a little out of place which was strange thing to see “they seem awful.”
“Understatement.”
Silence fell over them. Stiles twisted his fingers together nervously, occasionally chewing a finger nail or casting a glance at Derek, who was as still as a statue apart from the rise and fall of his chest. Stiles wanted to ask what happened last night, after he passed out, how did he sneak him back into his room? He should thank him, for bringing him home, for putting him into bed, for binging there for him when no one else was. He doesn’t ask any of that though; in true Stiles Stilinski style he asks the most random question.
“Where’d you get the internet from?”
Derek gives him that raised eyebrow look, Stiles still doesn’t know what it’s supposed to mean. It’s kinda cute though “At an internet cafe.”
“Really, were there people there?”
Derek frowns, at least Stiles understands this expression; it means his mouth is getting him into trouble again, nothing new really. “Shut up, Stiles.”
In a truly mature way Stiles pokes out his tongue, Derek swats at him half-heartedly, a small grin gracing his face. “Thanks, for, uh, doing that...” Stiles looked down at his hands “and for bringing me home and everything.”
“I owed you.”
“Right” the teen blinked, feeling tired again “of course.”
“I should go, before your dad finds me in his underage sons’ room.”
“Yeah, good idea” Stiles said, unfolding himself so he could make himself comfortable and his kingdom of blankets “see you around.”
Derek nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Derek?”
The wolf looked back, half out the window, ready to disappear into the big bad world. “I do trust you.”
That small smile formed into a genuine one, a very brief one but real all the same “take it easy Stiles” and with that he was gone.
Sighing heavily Stiles burrowed under the blankets, he still had to ask Derek how he got him home but that could wait until another sleepless night. For now sweet dreams beckoned him forth.