Five times Derek struggles with touch, and one time he gives it freely.
touch starved, anxiety, hurt/comfort, 6k, rated G
The first slide of Stiles’ fingers against Derek’s sends a spark all the way up his arm.
He doesn’t mean to jump, doesn’t mean to shift around awkwardly in the uncomfortable movie theater seat, but Stiles’ touch is strange and new and scary.
It doesn’t feel right in his palm. He knows it should, knows Stiles is pack, is home, but no one has held his hand since high school. Laura hugged him sometimes, put her arm around him when they couldn’t sleep, but not — not this.
Derek is hyperaware of every place he and Stiles are touching. Their fingers interlaced, the softness of Stiles’ skin, the coolness of it against Derek’s warmth.
He worries that if he moves his hand in the slightest, twitches his fingers accidentally, Stiles will move away, or judge him or make fun of him or see that Derek’s not really an alpha at his core, that he stole the role without earning it, that he’s really just a scared puppy underneath that cannot handle a simple touch, of all things.
The horror movie plays on screen, and Derek can’t help but jump again. He’s not even watching it, eyes wandering around the theater as of several minutes ago, but the film is far too loud, drilling into his ears. He thinks he might go deaf after this. There’s nonstop flashing on the screen, and blood, and screaming, and Derek’s not even afraid of horror movies after his whole damn life being one itself, but this is too much.
They paid for the premium seats, the ones even closer to the screen where the seats themselves rattle and shake along with the movie. The pack seem to be enjoying it, scarfing down popcorn and soda like there’s no tomorrow, laughing and generally being enthralled with the movie in a way Derek doesn’t have the luxury of.
He just wants to get out of here, but leaving now would be horribly embarrassing, would make him look like a coward, a fraud, a wimp. Did he mention he’s the alpha?
Somehow, Stiles can sense all this. Whether it’s by observing Derek shifting uncomfortably in his seat nonstop, or the way his shoulders feel tense against Stiles’ own — somehow Stiles knows.
So when he reaches over silently for Derek’s hand, it’s like an anchor and a bolt of lightning all at once.