Nightmares and Revelations

Full Night 6

A/N: I feel like this lil story is getting away from me, so I kinda wrapped it up a bit? Might continue it later. Sorry that this one is so short! Fear not! I have started on another oneshot! <3 

Stiles wakes up screaming.

He wakes up nearly everyone in the pack house.

Derek holds him as he fights through the panic attack. He's so far gone into the fear that he doesn't notice half of the pack running into the room, and he doesn't notice he fucking wet the bed again with Derek in bed with him!

The Alpha snarls at the half of the pack who awkwardly stand in the doorway or beside the bed. Lydia's hands are raised as she stands by the bed, like she wants to reach out and comfort Stiles, but is worried about upsetting him further. When Derek snarls, Lydia doesn't flinch, but the werewolves all whine and lower their gaze when their Alpha makes his irritation known. The wolf's eyes blaze red, the scent of his mate's fear, mixed with the potent, distinct smell of urine has his instincts raging - protect protect protect - he bares his teeth at the redhead as she slinks closer. Predatory red eyes never leave her form.

Stiles, still out of it, whimpers on each exhale he takes as his panic slowly starts to lesson. Derek stays wrapped around him, a deep growl vibrating his chest, teeth elongated and ears pointed as his wolf rises more and more to the surface.

Lydia's eyes flicker to the huge wet spot on the bed beneath tangled blankets and sheets, to Stiles' pajama bottoms, which are soaked through, and she pursues her lips into a thin line, understanding dawning on her.

The rest of the wolves have either caught on or are going to, so Lydia quickly begins ushering them out. At first they don't move - until Derek snaps his jaws with an intimidating growl, and the pack dart out of the door and shut it behind them.

As soon as they're gone, Derek feels his body relax a bit, and he turns his attention to his boyfriend. Stiles is shaking so hard his teeth chatter and hands tremble as they cling to Derek's forearms.

The werewolf can tell as soon as Stiles realizes he peed the bed.

The human's whole body goes rigid, and his scent goes sour with humiliation and despair. The salty tang of tears hits the air.

"It's okay," Derek reassures him in a soft, tender voice, lips brushing his ear, "it's okay, I promise."

At that, a small sob escapes the younger man. In a small voice, Stiles says, "They all saw... didn't they." More of a statement than a question.

Derek wants to tell Stiles he'll beat the shit out of anyone who dares to make fun of him, but bringing up violence right now isn't the best of ideas.

"I don't know."

The human presses the heels of his hands against both eyes, forcing back tears and gathering himself. "Fuck!" He hisses, gritting his teeth against the wave of different emotions that crash into him. He forces himself away from Derek as the urine begins to cool, realizing he got his boyfriend wet too. "Fuck, you're wet too."

Taking a deep breath to help clear his animalistic instincts from the surface, Derek gently begins urging Stiles to his feet, unconcerned about the piss that's soaked into his own clothes. "C'mon, let's go get cleaned up."

Stiles mechanically gets to his feet, and the older man begins to worry that his boyfriend will fall into another severe dissociative episode. He goes over to the younger man and takes one of his hands. Immediately Stiles threads his fingers through his mate's and sighs, the touch comforting.

The two men both strip down and hop into the shower, and Stiles lets Derek scrub him down. Stiles offers to do the same for the wolf, but Derek just shakes his head with a small smile, and Stiles doesn't have the strength to try and get an answer out of him. Once finished, Derek towels Stiles down, the were needing to provide and care for his mate, before he goes and gets fresh clean clothes for the both of them. The human goes to dress himself but his werewolf boyfriend bats his hands away and helps him into his boxers and a loose pair of sweatpants before putting one of his own shirts over Stiles' head. The human can't help but smile when he notices that he's now wearing one of Derek's shirts.

"Thank you," he mumbles as he tugs the sleeves of his older man's shirt over his fingers. It helps him feel safe and small and warm.

Derek looks at him as he steps into his jeans, thick eyebrows furrowed. "For what?"

Stiles gives him a little smile. "For everything."