InsaneJournal

Teen Wolf Fic

Title: Group Therapy
Author: C’est Moi.
Fandom (Pairing): Teen Wolf (Sterek pre-slash)
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: Life Misery – if there’s a trigger in the show, it’s in here (except gore)
Word Count: 679
Summary: Peter is back and apparently everyone has to find closure or some such crap...
Disclaimer: I’m not in any way associated with Teen Wolf and that is something I will just sit here and quietly cry over. Maybe they need someone in wardrobe? I would iron if it got me near this show. I will sew on buttons, I have no pride...
A/N: Unbeta’d as my Wifey is busy and this just crept up on me like a mugger then ran away. It’s better to talk about these things right? Inspired by a fic that intimated Stiles’ mother died in a...well, you’ll see. That story did not see the potential in that idea that I did, which is a shame. I’d give them a mention if I remembered to save my links – sorry!

Stiles officially hates this idea. He hates this whole pack-meeting, share-your-feelings, touchy-feely crap.

The first stab of that misery is because of how Derek is looking at him, that camaraderie that normally makes him feel warm in ways he’s totally not looking into consciously.

The next is because Derek doesn’t know.

The rest is for what it’ll do to Derek, what it might do to that understanding, when he finds out.

Fuck Peter and his therapy bullshit. Who said he gets a second chance anyway?

~ * ~

Isaac has gone through the harrowing story of his brother, his mother leaving and his father’s gradual decline into fucked-up-tidtude.

Erica has relayed countless, graphic and uncomfortable stories about her epilepsy and just general medical shit guys don’t need to hear about.

Boyd has given the long and, frankly, poetic story of his family struggling through poverty and how they all worked endlessly. Stiles cried, he’s not afraid to admit that.

Derek and Peter gave some Dolby Surround Sound version of the fire and how it destroyed them, their family and the county’s werewolf population. It was both melo-dramatic and quietly painful.

Scott talked for half an hour about his parents’ divorce and his layers of self-imposed guilt about having caused it...somehow. Stiles has heard it before and may have checked his cell a couple times.

Allison cried for fifteen minutes about the fact that her mom died on her bed and how fucked up is her family that that’s what they consider being close. She choked out some stuff about genetics and being doomed into Scott’s shoulder and they left it at that.

Jackson begrudgingly admitted to feelings of inadequacy and how he’ll never know his real parents or who he really was. He made you feel resentful about feeling sorry for him, which is a gift really.

Lydia announced she was a fucking genius and what, did they expect her to cry about being under-appreciated? Basically everyone is dirt under her Manolo Blahniks and they should accept it.

~ * ~

Then they all looked at Stiles and he waved dismissively, made a joke about being all cried out and tried to change the subject. When that didn’t work (fucking Peter) he shrugged, “Everyone knows my story.”

Except they don’t – no one knows how Stiles’ mom died as Scott so helping announces to the meeting (they’re in a circle, that just tells you everything, right?)

Stiles tries to shrug, tries to duck out and is immediately struck with seven sets of puppy eyes (one reddened human impression there of), one bitch face and one death glare. He’s told in no uncertain terms that failing to co-operate in touchy-feely time will result in severe damage to life and limb.

Stiles slumps in his chair and makes a point of looking at the floor. Any glance towards Derek is entirely coincidental and in no way apologetic.

“My mom had the biggest heart. She and my dad met through work because they both had this thing for saving people. She was quick and passionate - she thought with her heart.”

Stiles took a deep breath, maybe seven or eight, and pushed down all the pain in his voice.

“Dad was working and we were watching Transformers after school when she got a call. I told her I was ten, I was responsible and people needed her. I promised to behave, to wait for Dad and be good.”

Stiles thought of Scott, of visions of his dad and how applying more guilt to himself was just making a bad situation worse right now.

“My mom was a fire fighter... There was a fire...in a house...there were kids trapped inside.” Stiles took the deepest breath, “My mom had the biggest heart...she could never leave a kid to die.”

The room was deathly silent. The forest outside might have stopped out of awkward uncertainty about what to say next.

Stiles reached his hand across and carefully ran his fingers over charred wood. When, after eons of silence, he looked up Derek met his eyes faultlessly.