Sterek One Shots (manxman)

I Have Faith In Nights *Chapter Four*

Title: I Have Faith In Nights

Author: DaintyBoots

Comment (s): Half way through the story!!
Also, special announcement!! If 5 people use my mercari discount code when signing up by tomorrow, I will update the last couple chapters on Thursday.. all of them. The code is "CQFNPE" case sensitive. By using the code, you will receive an automatic 2 credits! Thank you!!
+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+

Chapter 4

(Just a note of warning: This chapter contains what I envision to be a pretty step by step graphic description of heroin withdrawal, which as you might guess, is a fairly unpleasant topic. Just be warned, much sweating and shivering dwelleth here.)

Chapter Text -

It hadn't taken long for Stiles to wake up.

"Dude, dude, Derek, Derek, I'm freaking out man, I'm fucking freaking out."

Clammy hands wrenched Derek from the haze of sleep that he had been fighting off for the past hour. Squinting at Stiles in the dim lamplight, he could see that they had landed in what the doctor had called "the craving stage". Stiles was practically hanging off him, having clearly stumbled from the bedroom. His face was close so Derek's he could feel panicked, quick breathes against his cheek.

"Derek, Derek, listen, I need to go outside, I'm fucking suffocating in here man, I need to breathe, I can't fucking breathe, let me go outside and I swear I'll come back in like, five minutes, please -"

Derek attempted to untwist the skinny inked fingers that were now knotted up in his t-shirt. Sweat was shining on Stiles's forehead and he was bending over slightly, as if intense stomach pains were ripping through his body. His eyes darted, wild and unfocused, like a feral cat cornered in an alleyway, constantly looking for an exit point. Derek didn't need a doctor to tell him what Stiles was craving, and he knew that the only way he could get it was if he left the apartment. "This" the doctor had said "will be up to your strength of will, and whether you can deny his pain."

Three months in the Narcotics Division wasn't a long time, but Derek had put in his fair share of work as a beat cop, and he had seen enough people shot in the stomach, clasping their guts which were in danger of pouring out of their bodies. And all Derek could say to Stiles was what he had said to these people.

"It's going to be okay."

Stiles, however, was having none of his bullshit.

"Fuck that man; it is so fucking not okay from where I'm standing. Just give me five minutes, five freaking minutes and I'll be back, I swear it, I swear - "

Keep it together Hale.

"Stiles, you know I can't do that -"

"Jesus Christ Derek, it's too much okay? It hurts too much, just let me go for awhile, please let me go letmegoletmegoletmego let me go."

Suddenly, Stiles dropped to his knees, and for a second Derek was confused to whether the kid was begging or just exhausted. This confusion was pushed aside to make room for sheer distress when Stiles reached to try and undo his belt buckle with his trembling fingers.

"This is what you want right? I'll do this and then you can let me go outside for awhile, five, ten minutes tops man, I'll do this and then we're good and-"

Derek managed to swat the desperate hands away and instead of forcing Stiles to stand any more than he needed to, he crouched down, at eye level, reaching a hand out to feel the kid's forehead. He brushed away the wet hair that usually stuck up in tufts, sliding his other hand over a quaking shoulder. He wasn't allowed to administer the methadone within the critical first hours of the detox period. Sometimes he thought God was too fucking cruel.