Daybreak

Chapter Seven

Derek had also started to act differently towards Stiles after the fight. Not in the sense that he treated Stiles differently, really. More like he was a bit more physical—which Stiles attributed to the other pack members warming up to him—and was less like a lost puppy and more like a guard dog. Also, Derek still visited Stiles at night in full-shift, but some nights he came in his human form to comfort Stiles or keep him company. It was surprisingly more . . . intimate when he was in human form. Instead of a hulking mass of fur to hold onto as he came down from a night terror, he was pulled into Derek's lap and cradled close, with a hand on the back of his head pressing his face in a broad shoulder as the other soothed down his back and comforting words were rambled mindlessly into his ear.

In his wolf form, Derek couldn't talk or hold him. In his wolf form, apart from his eyes and the occasional noise, Stiles couldn't see how much his state effected Derek. In his wolf form, Stiles was pulled so close he could feel the other's heart thumping against his chest.

When Stiles had calmed down enough, Derek would hoist him up into his arms and carry the older boy back over to his bed. And each time, Derek would slide in between the sheets with him and pull him close again. Sometimes Stiles fell asleep like that—heavy, warm, and dreamless—and sometimes he startled awake, staring into the darkness and soaking in Derek's presence.

In the light of day, Derek always let Stiles go back to his usual strong self without a word or excessive coddling. Derek understood that what happened in the night was not who he was all the time.

He didn't understand it. How a boy who was younger than him and hadn't lived through a fraction of the horrors he had, could know so intuitively what Stiles needed—even better than Stiles himself knew sometimes. After only two months with the Hales and with Derek, Stiles could feel himself healing. There was still scar tissue everywhere, but the still bleeding wounds were beginning to clot each time he woke up scared but not alone, each time he opened his eyes to morning light, a heavy arm thrown over his shoulders, and stale but warm breath in his face.

Stiles held no illusions about it just being the slowly growing pack bonds that were making him better. Without Derek, without his constant chatter and too-bright disposition, Stiles wouldn't have come nearly as far. Stiles wouldn't be biting back smiles as Derek found him immediately after school and was already launching into every little thing that had happened since the moment he'd left before he'd even slid his backpack off. He wouldn't be pulling out his mom's beloved chocolate-chip cookie recipe that he hadn't dared try to make since her passing, just so he could reward Cora for doing amazing on her math test. He wouldn't be able to handle flicking through the photos saved on his phone of him and his old pack, of his dad. And he certainly wouldn't be considering approaching Talia and telling her he'd like to officially join the pack.

Because of Derek, Stiles could sleep again—despite the nightmares—because he knew someone would be there to bring him back when he woke up. Because of him he could breathe again! Because of Derek, Stiles could finally see past tomorrow and envision a future for himself; with the pack.

... ... ...

Sometimes, Stiles was reminded of how little he really knew about werewolves and the super natural world in general. With his old pack, they didn't celebrate the new moon, full moons were spent trying to contain their inner beasts, and their lessons on the supernatural consisted of 'here's how you kill this' and 'pack is important.' So, one could imagine Stiles' confusion and surprise when he was informed of the Spring Union. A pretty and vague title for what was essentially speed-dating for werewolves.