Shatter My Reality

Drawer

Derek would be lying if he said he didn't love having everyone staying with him. He loved waking up to the sound of soft laughter from the living room and the gentle clank of pans from the kitchen. He laid in bed for a moment longer, just listening to the hushed teasing between Malia and Kira. He listened to the bossy quips from Lydia to Scott about how to work the stove. He smelled the caramel notes of the coffee that had been put on.

He closed his eyes and let his memory wander to a time when the voices he heard were his mother's and sister's. He missed being surrounded by his pack. Sure, he'd had Erica, Isaac, and Boyd for a time, but it wasn't like this. He just hated that the reason for it was Stiles' life on the line.

-

Stiles laid on the bed, his eyes on the exposed wooden beams that supported the ceiling. He'd hardly slept. A few broken hours. He heard shifting and clanking from deeper in the loft and was glad that he wasn't alone. So many nights lately, he woke up alone, sweat ridden, and tortured by nightmares. He hadn't slept nearly deep enough nor long enough to allow the nightmares to haunt him. He sat up and gave a quick check of his fingers just like he did every morning.

"Ten," He said with a relieved sigh.

-

Derek and Stiles stepped out of their rooms at the same time. Their doors clicked in unison.

"Morning," Stiles said with an unsure smile.

Derek frowned at the dark circles under Stiles' eyes. "You sleep okay?"

"Trying to get used to a new bed." Stiles shrugged.

Derek narrowed his eyes. Stiles was good at avoiding a direct answer when he didn't want to be caught in a lie.

"If it's not comfortable, I can—"

"No," Stiles cut in. "It's fine. Really."

Derek wanted to protest, but Stiles was already walking away from him.

Stiles reached for a coffee mug from one of the drawers and poured himself a steaming cup.

"How'd you know where those were? It took me five minutes to find them," Lydia huffed, throwing her hands up. She turned to Derek. "Seriously, who puts their mugs in a drawer?"

Derek shrugged. "I didn't have space anywhere else. It's a small kitchen."

"Yes, how did you know those were there?" Peter raised a curious brow at Stiles, who remained focused on stirring the cream and sugar into his coffee.

"This isn't the first time I've been here," Stiles answered.

"Me either, and I didn't even know he had an upstairs," Scott pointed out.

Peter blinked at Scott. "You didn't know— you know what, never mind." He turned his attention back to Stiles.

"He helped me with research one day," Derek answered vaguely. He could tell Stiles hadn't told anyone about his visit after Boyd's death.

Stiles looked up at Derek before dropping his eyes back to his coffee.

Thankfully, that was a good enough answer because the topic was dropped.

Derek recalled the day after Boyd's death.

Derek stood where Boyd died. Died by his hands. He closed his eyes, trying to keep it together when a familiar scent and heartbeat reached his senses. He couldn't help but let out a small snarl. He was not in the mood for whatever Stiles had to say.

The door to the loft slid open. Derek regretted not locking it. But he'd thought, what was the point? He'd lost Erica and now Boyd. Maybe it was better to just let Kali kill him.

Stiles stepped inside the loft and closed the door.

Derek didn't look at him. Instead, he stayed planted where Boyd's life had faded in his hands.

"You didn't do this."

Derek wanted to lash out and snap at Stiles. He didn't want pity. But there was no pity in Stiles' tone. There was sympathy in his scent, but his tone was stern, like he was stating a fact.

Derek met his eyes.

"They won't get away with this."

Derek wanted to ask why Stiles was there, but he was pretty sure he already knew. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. Why would Stiles want to comfort him? He'd done nothing to deserve it.

"Mind if I use your kitchen?" Stiles gestured over his shoulder.

Derek frowned.

Stiles didn't elaborate, so Derek gave a curt nod. It was best to just let Stiles do what Stiles was going to do.

Derek followed Stiles into the kitchen and watched him rifle through his cabinets and drawers.

"Ah ha." Stiles held up two mugs victoriously. "Drawer? Really?"

Stiles turned away before Derek could answer.

Derek watched Stiles prepare two mugs of chamomile tea.

"Here." Stiles held out a steaming cup.

Derek took it, still not having said a word.

"My Dad used to make me chamomile tea when I couldn't sleep. We'd drink it together and talk about whatever was bothering me and keeping me up. You don't have to talk but...I'm here if you decide you want to."

Derek and Stiles stood in silence. They were halfway through their tea when Derek finally spoke.

"I don't want to lose anyone else."

"Me either." Stiles shook his head.

Derek gave a nod. It was an agreement of sorts. Look out for each other.

Maybe that was why Derek could hardly look at Stiles without being consumed by guilt. He hadn't looked out for Stiles. He'd nearly lost him to the Nogitsune. He wasn't going to let that happen again. He'd die before letting anything happen to Stiles.

Stiles sipped his coffee from the same blue mug as that day. He had never told anyone about checking on Derek. He assumed Derek wouldn't want anyone to know. He guessed by the lie that Derek told, that was still true. He liked that no one knew. It was like their little secret. A special moment just for them.

Stiles was pulled from his thoughts by Malia's voice.

"Are you seriously going to try this again?" Malia gestured to the row of candles Lydia had laid out on the coffee table. "You tried for thirty minutes last night."

"It's supposed to work," Lydia insisted. "Besides, this time, I'm going to hold Stiles' hand. Maybe that will help."

Stiles set his coffee down and joined Lydia on the floor in front of the table. He knew not to argue with her.

*AN*
Sorry for being MIA. This past week/weekend was insanely busy. But I should be back to updating more regularly again.