The Thunderstorm

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1260910.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, sterek - Relationship
Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Wolf Derek, kid stiles,
Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddly Derek, Cuddling & Snuggling,
Protectiveness, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Time Skips,
Drabble, Art
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of A Boy and His Wolf
Stats: Published: 2014-03-03 Words: 1,645 Chapters: 1/1
 The Thunderstorm
by orphan_account, twobirdsonesong

Summary

During a raining, thundering night, Derek comforts a 9-year-old Stiles after the death of his
mother.

Notes

A Boy and His Wolf is a collaborative project between heavenorspace and myself.

It will be a series of vignettes, out of chronological order, set in a world where Derek, in the
form of a wolf, first encountered Stiles when he was a toddler playing in the woods. Derek is
under strict pack orders not to reveal himself as werewolf to the human boy and must only
interact with him as a wolf. When Stiles is a child, their relationship is strictly platonic and
protective in nature. As Stiles grows older that begins to change.

Each drabble will be accompanied by a piece of art drawn by heavenorspace.

(art by heavenorspace)

***

It’s not the bone-shaking crash of thunder that sends Derek out from his usual spot under the
thick trees in the backyard of the Stilinski home and up to the second story window of Stiles’
bedroom, but rather the crushing scent of heartache and sorrow rolling from every inch of the
dark house.

The window is closed against the rain and the wind, but Derek can see Stiles on his bed,
curled tight around a pillow. Even through the glass he can scent the grief on the boy, thick
and overpowering and drowning out everything else. It coats Derek’s tongue and he
practically chokes on it. Derek scratches at the window with his claws, wuffing softly, trying
to get Stiles’ attention. He can’t open the window from the outside with his paws and he
dares not transform. He already uses his human form to the scale the house, shifting back to
the wolf before the boy sees him. Not once in all their years of knowing each other has Stiles
once questioned the sight of a massive wolf on the roof outside his window. And his father
doesn’t know that’s how Derek gets inside when he’s not waiting at the back door.

Stiles finally lifts his head from the pillow and Derek can’t stop the pained growl that
emanates from him. The boy’s eyes are puffy and red and Derek can smell the wet salt of his
tears. He scratches at the window again, desperate with the need to get inside where he can
comfort his human the way he’s been doing ever since Stiles was a toddler.

Stiles doesn’t smile at the sight of him like he usually does, Derek doesn’t know if he’s even
capable of it right then, but relief and affection spikes in his scent and he pulls himself from
the messy tangle of his bed. Derek whines softly when he sees how stiffly Stiles moves, as
though his muscle ache, but Derek knows it’s only his poor heart.

The window finally slides open and Derek immediately pushes himself through the opening,
sharp claws scrabbling and scratching at the ledge until he’s inside. He would be annoyed by
how much noise he just made, but he doesn’t care. He’s got far more important things to
worry about just then. The smell of anguish is even stronger here, permeating every corner
of the dimly lit room. It makes his fur bristle and stand on end.

This is not how it’s supposed to be.

“Hey, buddy,” Stiles whispers, voice cracked and burnt. Exhaustion is bruised in dark circles
under his eyes and etched in lines around his red mouth. He looks like he’s been chewing his
lips. Through the window lightning flashes.

Derek circles around Stiles’ pajama clad legs, shoving his nose into his soft belly and the
sweaty backs of his knees, searching out every note of his scent. Stiles’ hand drops to the
back of his neck and his long fingers tangle and grip in his thick ruff, searching for the
purchase and grounding that’s suddenly been ripped away from the very fabric of his life.

Derek pads towards the bed, using Stiles’ hold on his fur to pull him along with him. He
nudges at Stiles’ legs and butt with his snout until the boy crawls back onto the bed, body
burrowing in the pile of blankets that smell of stale sweat and snot and dried tears. He makes
sure Stiles is settled before he walks the perimeter or the room, pushing the window closed
with his front paws and making sure nothing has snuck into Stiles’ closet or under his bed.
He sniffs under the door and the sharp burn of alcohol that comes from Stiles’ father’s room
tickles his sensitive nose. But the Sheriff’s breathing is slow and steady and Derek knows
that the sleep - however it was brought on - will only help.

Satisfied that Stiles is as safe as he can make him, that there are no potential threats lurking,
and that no other supernatural creatures have been in his room, Derek leaps lightly onto the
bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight and Stiles out reaches for him immediately – long,
gangly arms coming around him and Derek allows himself to be pulled down. Outside, a
burst of lightning flashes and thunder cracks. Stiles shudders and curls around Derek the way
he’d been wrapped around the pillow, holding him like he’s the only real thing left in his
world. Derek doesn’t mind at all. Beneath the stench of sorrow Stiles still smells like milk
and laundry soap and boy. His boy. Derek adjusts his long body and lets Stiles’ rest his head
in the softer curve of his neck and shoulder. Stiles takes a deep breath in and Derek wonders
what his fur smells like to the boy.

Derek knows what happened to Stiles’ mom. The news of Claudia had carried fast across
town and Derek’s own mom had wrapped him up in her arms and smoothed his hair and told
him it was all right to go visit the boy, as long as he stayed in his wolf body.

“You’re going to want to shift,” his mother had said. “But don’t. Now is not the time.”

But Derek wishes he could hold Stiles in human arms the way his mom holds him when he’s
hurt and sad and tell him everything will be okay with human words. He knows he’s not that
much older than Stiles, but he thinks the boy - with his wounded, acrid scent and hitching
breath - could use a human friend right now, and not the wolf who first saw him playing in
the woods all those years ago.

“I don’t understand,” Stiles finally whispers into Derek’s soft fur. His voice is barely audible,
but to Derek’s ears it’s as loud as the rain.

Derek whines gently, frustrated he can’t say more, can’t say anything at all. He loves being
the wolf, but there are limitations. He can’t say: I’m sorry. It’s not fair. She was beautiful.
I’m sorry. I’m here for you.
Instead, he licks the tears from Stiles’ soft, red cheeks and wraps his tail around Stiles’ arm.
The salt is bitter and sharp, but the rough of his tongue almost makes Stiles’ smile. Almost,
but it’s enough for Derek. If Stiles were another wolf like him Derek would have them curl
around each other and bury their noses in each other’s fur until the hurt melted away, but
Stiles is human. A fragile human with a breakable heart and Derek can only do so much.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Stiles mumbles. His voice is still tinged with that drowning sorrow,
but the softness of sleep is beginning to edge its way in.

Derek whuffs in the best response he can give.

“I wish I knew your name.”

Derek doesn’t wear a collar, of course, and he’s thought about trying to scratch out his name
with a claw, just so Stiles would have something to call him other than “buddy.” And so he
could hear Stiles call him by name. But he’s not supposed to be anything more than an
overly domesticated wolf - he’s not supposed to have a name or know how to spell it out. It
chafes sometimes; that this is the role he must play. Of all the nights they’ve spent in each
other’s company Derek has never wanted to break the rules more. But Stiles doesn’t need
the shock of Derek suddenly shifting into a human boy right there in his bed, not right then.

I wish you were a wolf like me, Derek thinks. It would be so much easier. And Stiles’ parents
too. Then Claudia wouldn’t have gotten sick and Derek wouldn’t have to pretend around
Stiles’ father, a man with eyes too keen for his own good. They could be a pack, a real pack.
And the Stilinski’s could come over for dinner and Stiles and Derek could chase each other
through the woods and answer each other’s howling song under the moonlight.

“I miss her already,” Stiles chokes out, voice high and breaking as the tears return and his
scent turns bitter once more. Derek whines and wriggles in Stiles’ arms, pushing back until
Stiles’ hugs him as tightly as he can. His own heart aches for his boy, but he can’t make it
better. He can’t do anything but offer the weight and warmth of his body. He can’t protect
Stiles from this, no matter how badly he wants to.

He can’t fight an enemy that’s already won.

I’m sorry, he thinks, uselessly.

Derek can smell the sleep creeping up on Stiles and he’s thankful for it. The boy is exhausted
all the way through to his bones.

“Thank you for coming,” Stiles whispers as he buries his face in Derek’s neck.

Derek stays the whole night even though he knows how dangerous it is. He usually leaves as
soon as Stiles falls asleep, but that night Derek keeps watch over him until the sun rises
again. Stiles’ parents have always been wary of the great, black wolf that hangs around way
too often to be normal. But Derek has earned their trust as best he can over the years. He
knows how to play the part of the faithful, protective, if overly intelligent dog to ease their
worries. Besides, if the Sheriff comes to check on his heartbroken son, Derek will hear him
coming with more than enough time to slip out unnoticed. Finding a massive wolf in his
son’s bed might be too much for the man.

Tonight Stiles’ need for him overrides everything else, so Derek stays. The harsh rain lashes
at the windows and the thunder continues to rumble overhead and Derek stays awake until
the storm passes and the sun peeks over the horizon.
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!