Chapter Text
Five months; a lot can change in five months. Dru was no longer in their group, she accidentally overdosed sometime in April. Her chair remained unoccupied, moved over to one side in quiet memorial. Bryan and Skyler got an apartment together; Bryan was planning on proposing to his boyfriend soon. Lizzie moved out of her parents' place and in with a foster family. Bill's stepmother died in a car accident. Isaac and Danny were officially a couple, not that anyone was surprised. Stiles, well, Stiles was doing better; he still struggled and he had relapsed a few times, but it was slowly getting easier. It was their last group therapy session with Dr. Koln, as they could no longer consider themselves a part of the youth's group therapy. All of them were graduating in a few short days. Bryan and Skyler were moving across the country. Bill and Lizzie were going to become roommates at U of C, where they would continue group therapy with a counselor on campus.
Stiles and Isaac were going to Stanford; in fact, the entire gang was going to Stanford, and they already had a couple apartments picked out. Derek would be staying in Beacon Hills, but would visit often. Stanford was close enough that a weekend trip home was not impossible either, and Stiles would most likely take advantage of that to visit his father and Melissa, who had finally gotten together and were tossing around the idea of living together once the boys moved out. Scott and Stiles were both very supportive of the idea.
Stiles held Isaac’s hand, like he did every session that they had. While Stiles had opened up a bit more in group, talking about his mother very rarely and some of the bigger worries that plagued him (as much as he could without talking about the supernatural), he still did not talk much. Stiles had opened up more to Isaac, Scott, his father, and Derek than he had at group. That was okay, though, Dr. Koln insisted one day. At least Stiles was talking to someone, which was the whole point of group. “I almost relapsed,” Stiles said quietly after Lizzie had finished going on about how excited she was to be going to live with Bill. Lukas and everyone else turned their attention to the quiet teen, Isaac gently squeezing his hand in reassurance. “It was... everyone was talking about college, and how everything was going to change, and I was just... frozen, sitting there scared. I mean, what if I disappoint everyone? Focusing in high school was hard enough. And now, everyone's expecting me to know where I want to go, what I want to do, who I want to be... I barely know what I want to eat for breakfast in the morning, let alone what I want to do with the rest of my life.”
Except for the pack. The one thing Stiles could be sure on, it was that he could not imagine his life without any of them in it. They were his family, albeit an odd one. Stiles let out a heavy breath and shrugged a little as he went on to say, “Anyway, I found myself going through the motions, and then my phone rang. It was the most random bit of luck, but... a friend called me; Derek, he called to make sure I was okay and I just... kinda broke and admitted to what was happening.”
Isaac remembered that night clearly. He had been in the kitchen, taking an odd (and slightly terrifying) cooking lesson from Peter when Derek came into the room quickly to grab his jacket off one of the chairs. Both he and Peter watched as Derek spoke on the phone and left without an explanation. Several hours later, Isaac got a text from Stiles asking him to come over to the house as well. By the time he got there, it was clear that Stiles had taken a shower due to his damp hair, but the rest of the pack was there already, including Melissa. She and Stiles were talking quietly in the kitchen as she made them all some dinner, and Isaac came in just as she pulled Stiles into a tight hug. They all huddled around the living room of the Stilinski house the rest of the night, all of them touching somehow.
“I'm proud of you.”
Stiles blinked and looked over to Isaac, who sat across from him in a corner booth at one of the diners in town. They had finished their last session, which felt like it had lasted longer than any of the ones before; and, they decided to go ahead and grab something to eat. “What did you say?” Stiles replied, his brow furrowing a little, though Isaac just smiled softly in response.
“I said that I’m proud of you,” stated Isaac, nodding a little before taking a drink of his Coke. “Out of everything you've been told lately, I don't think that's something you've heard enough of and it's true. We all are. It's... 'm just glad you're doing better.”
Stiles laughed softly, awkwardly reaching up to ruffle his hair with one hand before messing with the rubber band he wore around his left wrist. It was a coping technique that they had taken to, one that they would slowly start to stop with. However, for the time being, whenever things started to be just too much, Stiles would flick the band a time or two, just enough to redden his pale skin slightly. “Uhm, thanks?” He was not exactly sure what to do or say to that. It left him feeling shaken. He had not really done anything that spectacular, had he?
Then again, looking back and realizing what he was trying to overcome, he guessed it was a lot bigger than what it seemed. Stiles smiled smally for a moment, the action slowly growing into something more honest before he took a big spoonful of his chocolate shake. Maybe he really had gotten a lot farther than he thought. It was not easy; and, there were times in which he almost gave up on the whole recovery thing (there was an entire week there in which he and Scott were mad and then Scott went missing; it was a dark time that they all wisely did not talk about past the tear-filled reunion that Scott and Stiles had alone after the pack saved Scott) but he did not have to hide anymore.
Okay, so that was not true. He still hid beneath long sleeves and many layers. He never wore anything that could show his scars. He just... he was not ready for that. Derek had gotten him to take off his hoodie one day when they were all outside and it was miserable hot; but he spent the rest of his day with his arms firmly around someone's waist so there was never a chance anyone could see. Still, he did not have to hide how he felt or how torn up he got inside. He had people there willing to listen to him, even when he felt he had no one to turn to.
“So, when are you and Danny going out again?” Stiles questioned while salting some of his fries in an attempt to change the subject to something less emotional.
Isaac laughed softly, his face flushing a little as he answered, “Tomorrow night.” Stiles thought it was cute the way that Isaac continued to get all flustered and excited about his and Danny’s relationship. They were good together in a way that Stiles never would have imagined. Then again, there for a long while, he had thought that Isaac was some hyped-up jerk who just enjoyed pushing people around. That, he had learned, was not the truth.
Stiles smiled as he swirled his spoon in his milkshake before taking a drink. The two teens then fell into a discussion about the newest superhero movie to be released in the theaters as they continued to eat and enjoy some time to relax and wind down from the tension that a therapy session usually brought. Stiles felt a lot better that afternoon than he did most evenings, however. He thought it was a good thing.
When Stiles and Isaac got to the Hale House a while later, the Camaro was no where in sight, making Stiles frown a little. “C'mon, let's change and pop in a movie,” Isaac suggested as they went inside the house, flicking on the hall light as he passed the switch.
“Yeah, alright,” replied Stiles as he made his way upstairs, turning on the light on top of the landing as he went. “D'you know where Derek went?” He asked the question as he went into the guest room built for him (though he rarely actually slept in there) and Isaac went into his own.”
“No idea,” Isaac answered, speaking louder than normal so that Stiles could hear him through the distance.
No other words were said as the two of them changed, Stiles pulling on the hoodie he had stolen from Derek ages ago over one of the man's t-shirts and his own sleep pants. Once they were both more comfortable, the two of them made their way downstairs to the living room. Stiles just smiled and nodded in agreement with Isaac’s suggestion for a movie (some new Vince Vaughn comedy they both enjoyed), and dropped down onto the couch.
They had only started the movie when Isaac sat up a little straighter and looked toward the door. “Derek's back,” he stated, making Stiles smile a little without looking away from the television screen.
Derek came into the house a moment later, carrying a small bag of groceries toward the kitchen. He ruffled Isaac’s hair absentmindedly as he passed behind the couch, making the beta scrunch his face up though he smiled. “You wanna watch with us?” Stiles asked as he rested his head on the back of the couch, looking over toward the kitchen.
“Sure, give me a second,” replied Derek as he put up the things that he had bought. He then made his way back into the living room to sit down on the couch just as the last name in the opening credits left the screen.
Derek sat on the side of the couch opposite of Isaac, and was not surprised when Stiles almost immediately leaned against his side. It had became the normal seating arrangement whenever they watched television or movies together, either alone or with their friends. Stiles head rested against Derek’s shoulder, the side of his head pressed against the side of Derek’s neck. Derek often rested his head on top of Stiles' as whatever they watched went on. It made Isaac want to just hit the both of them, because all of that, and the two of them were still not together, though they acted more like a couple than Jackson and Lydia did.
That night, Isaac rolled his eyes fondly with a smile as Derek absentmindedly ran a hand along Stiles' arm, his own arm around the teen to keep Stiles held close. It was cute, and Isaac fought the urge to mock gag at the two of them.
Several hours and two movies later, Stiles and Derek were still awake, but Isaac was asleep curled up at the other end of the couch. Stiles was laying across Derek’s lap, a pillow and the armrest of the couch under his head as they watched some sci-fi adventure movie. Stiles had no real idea what was going on. He was too busy focusing on Derek’s fingers running gently and absentmindedly along his side where his shirt had ridden up a bit. It was highly distracting and Stiles felt like he could easily fall asleep just like that. However, he wet his lips and sighed softly before quietly saying, “We had our last group therapy session today.”
“Oh?” replied Derek, not stilling his fingers. He had known the last session was coming up, but he had not realized it was that day. “How'd it go?”
Stiles lifted his shoulder in a shrug, turning enough to lay on his back so that he was looking up at Derek. The man did not lift his hand any as Stiles moved, making Derek’s hand shift to rest on his stomach instead. “Skyler drew a butterfly on my wrist before we left.” Stiles' brow furrowed a little as he talked about that, not fully sure what to think, especially since the teen had not exactly given him a choice with it. Stiles had nearly panicked. He did not want anyone seeing the scars on his arm.
“Why?” Derek tilted his head very slightly to one side as he lifted his feet up to rest on the coffee table in front of the couch.
“S'a recovery project,” Stiles answered, lifting his head to look at Isaac when the other teen shifted. He only settled back down when Isaac remained asleep. “They call it the 'Butterfly Project'. It's silly. You're supposed to draw a butterfly and have it represent someone or someones important to you. You're not supposed to wash it off, and if you... well, if you give in to what you want while the butterfly is there you “kill” the butterfly.”
Derek smiled a little, shifting his hand over to rest on Stiles' side opposite him, gently squeezing the teen's hip. “D'you think it'll help?” he asked, making the teen sigh heavily with a shrug. Stiles honestly had no idea. It seemed ridiculous that something so meaningless could actually be of use. It just seemed silly to him. “Can I see it?”
Stiles tensed a little at the question. If he showed Derek the permanent marker drawing on his wrist, it would expose the scarring there again. He honestly did not want that because, well, he did not. He did not want anyone seeing. He did not want to see that look that came across peoples' faces when they realized what the scarring was. He hated that look, and especially coming from Derek. He just did not want it. However, after a moment, Stiles found himself letting out a shaky breath and nodding. Stiles did not move to lift the hoodie sleeve any, though, so Derek did it for himself. Stiles watched the other man's fingers as Derek brushed his thumb against the skin where the multicolored butterfly sat. His finger touched several of the scars, and Stiles nearly flinched away from the touch as he glanced up at Derek out of the corner of his eye.
However, what Stiles found was that Derek did not have that look on his face. If anything he simply looked thoughtful as his fingers brushed over the initials for Skyler, Bryan, Isaac, and the rest of their therapy group. He did not seem disgusted or anything, and Stiles almost expected Derek to flinch when the man's touch grazed over a rather thick and highly visible scar just next to the drawing. Derek did not pull away, however, and Stiles found himself looking directly at Derek once again. “Skyler insisted we all exchange numbers before we left,” Stiles said softly as Derek moved his hand to link his fingers with Stiles. “That way, if we ever need to talk...”
“I think it's a good idea,” replied Derek as he gently squeezed the teen's hand. “They've helped you a lot.”
“Yeah.” Stiles nodded a little, gently squeezing Derek’s hand in response. “So've you.”