Stiles tells people that he ‘used’ to have panic attacks. As if it were past tense.
It isn’t.
He still has them. He just learned how to have them quietly so that he wouldn’t worry his dad anymore. After his mom died and his dad lost himself to grief for a while, Stiles didn’t want to add anything more to his dad’s plate. So after he’d been pushed into therapy, he pretended that they went away.
They never did.
Stiles is noisy. So everyone expects everything he does to be loud and dramatic. Which, sure, it’s kind of who he was. But when panic started crawling down his back and he broke into a cold sweat, chest hurting, breathing laboured, muscles locked, and a deep churning in his gut he was quiet. So very quiet.
At this point, it was kind of just a part of his life. He hated them, sure, but it was just one more thing he was quiet about. It was easy for someone noisy like Stiles to hide. He hid his truth in silence. Silence no one noticed because of the noise.
It was fine. It worked.
Until it didn’t.
Until he had werewolves in his life. Wolves who could smell his cold sweat, hear his heart racing: wolves who could and would hear him quietly dying in the corner.
So it wasn’t a surprise that one of them did notice. It did surprise him that Derek was the one who noticed. Then again, perhaps not, he was the only born wolf (other than Peter and he didn’t count).
It happened in the middle of a pack meeting. They were discussing the latest monster and someone made an off-hand comment about his dad and danger and… well, he panicked. He sat in the corner and it felt like his world was ending. The attack passed in a moment that seemed endless. When it was over, he slumped and felt the weariness soak into his bones. When he raised his head he saw Derek looking right at him, which set his heart racing again but he was still feeling too out of it to work up to another panic attack. The pack meeting was still going strong. No one else was paying him any attention.
Things broke up half an hour later and Derek called out to Stiles as he prepared to leave, “Stiles, wait. I need your help with something before you go.”
Stiles paused. He was pretty sure what Derek needed ‘help’ with and he had zero desire to do it. But… he didn’t want to draw attention right now and involve more people, “Fine. But you’ll have to make it quick because I have a ton of homework and research I need to do.”
Derek just watched him as everyone else left. And he waited. Stiles waited. He knew Derek was waiting until everyone else was out of hearing range.
“What was that.” And Derek still failed at inflection.
“What was what?” Stiles hoped he could get away by feigning interest.
“Stiles.”
“Ugh, fine. I have panic attacks, okay? I’m too exhausted right now to do this with you. I don’t want to talk about it,” Stiles was agitated but really not feeling up to being sarcastic and deflecting Derek with babble.
“Okay,” Derek moved closer. Close enough to reach out and pull Stiles into a hug. Which, what? Derek was hugging Stiles. Derek was trying to comfort Stiles.
Derek Hale.
It did not compute and yet… strong arms were wrapped around him and Stiles just melted. His arms snaked around Derek’s waist and he clung for a long moment, breathing in Derek’s very pleasant scent. He wanted to cry but Stiles didn’t cry anymore. Not after his mom.
Stiles was pretty sure that this was the best hug he’d ever had. Derek was solid and warm. Stiles felt safe and secure in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. His dad’s hugs used to do this for him. Before Stiles learned to stop relying on him.
He should pull away. Because Stiles is used to supporting others, not being supported. But it just feels so good to have someone to lean on. To lean on Derek. Derek who always seemed to be there when Stiles needed him. Derek who never pushed him to talk. Who, of anyone Stiles knew, probably understood suffering in silence best.
So he stood there and hugged the one person he’d have never expected to hug. It was glorious. It was everything.
For the first time in a very long time, he didn’t feel alone.