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Derek feels like a storm is raging around him, but instead of wind and rain and dark, eerie skies there is the threat of the alpha pack, his failure as a leader, and the chance that Gerard isn’t lying dead somewhere. Sometimes Derek can’t breathe under the weight of it all, and he wonders if the tempest will ever pass.
Derek doesn’t know how, but Stiles seems to know when he is at his breaking point. He shows up sputtering some stupid excuse and the tangled knot in Derek's chest begins to loosen. Stiles is like the eye of the storm. When Derek takes him into his arms and fuses their mouths together there is a sudden sense of calm. With each article of clothes they rip off goes the worries of his mind until it is just the smell of Stiles’ skin and feeling of him trembling underneath Derek that occupy his thoughts. He is distantly aware that this sensation of complete serenity is only temporary, that the eye of the storm is only so wide and the moment Stiles leaves that Derek will once more be in the thick of it.
So when the passion mounts and comes to fruition, and they lay together, bodies sweaty and spend, Derek pulls Stiles closer and nuzzles his nose along the naked line of Stiles’ neck.
“Don’t leave me” Derek whispers so quietly he isn’t even sure Stiles hears him. But then Stiles turns onto his side and threads his hand into Derek's hair.
“Never” Stiles breaths and Derek can tell by the look in his eyes and the beat of his heart that Stiles isn’t lying.
Derek doesn’t know how to voice his thanks or the feeling welling in his chest, so instead he pulls Stiles in for another kiss and shows him.