He’s not handling it super well.
YOU CAN’T JUST DO THIS AND NOT GIVE ME FIC
It had been an accident. Stiles hadn’t asked Derek to do it, it hadn’t been some sick game or punishment by the alphas, it hadn’t been forced on him as a ‘gift’ by Peter. One day he’d been fighting with the wolves and his arm got caught in the way between Isaac’s teeth and his quarry and that had been that. No ceremony, no big gesture. It was just a thing that had happened and now they all had to live with it.
He’d been doing fine at first. Scott and Derek had been there for him. They’d helped him through the troublesome early days, the first full moon, helped him find his anchor and cement himself in the world. There were good nights. There were bad nights. Scott was usually there for the former with reminders of the days before or the good things being a werewolf could bring. Derek would coax him through the latter with tender words and strong hands that could hold Stiles or hold him down when he needed to be controlled.
The bite had cured him of his terminal clumsiness, replacing it with a agility and grace. He hated it. It felt like a part of who he was had been ripped from him. One thing it did nothing for was his ADHD. While the bite could work wonders on any physical ailment, it did nothing for mental ones. If anything, it made them worse.
Stiles could hear everything. Smell it. Taste it. There was a whole world out there to explore and he wanted to touch it, to see it, to experience it all at once. How were you supposed to focus on anything when there was so much… so much everything around you?
Stiles’ didn’t realise how much he’d relied on his Adderall. Now it didn’t work, his body metabolising the chemical to quickly so that the effects lasted minutes rather than hours. He tried the techniques and routines but they did little to curb his constant need to move and talk and just be. Instead he took to popping pills every five minutes, buying them off the internet and street dealers, stealing them from the other kids in school, any way he could get them just so that he could keep his shit together for long enough to get through whatever emergency he needed to get through that day.
It was Derek who noticed. It was Derek who worried about how the newly honed muscle was beginning to fall from Stiles’ body, how his eyes seemed shiftier, how he wavered when he stood and the dizziness and nausea took over. It was Derek who realised that every times Stiles suddenly ran off into the woods it was because a panic attack had gripped him so strongly that he needed to just run, run, run.
It was Derek who found him on the floor after the last skirmish with the alpha pack, a shattered bottle of someone else’s pills scattered on the floor. Stiles hadn’t made the fight. He’d just needed something to keep him in check so he could stay together for long enough to not be in the way, to follow orders and be one of the pack, but he hand’t been able to get at the stupid pills. Stiles’ claws were out. He couldn’t make them go back in. His heart rate was fast and erratic He couldn’t control his eyes, his shift, his smell. It was all too much for him. He couldn’t take this any more. He wanted out.
Derek said nothing. He put his arms around Stiles and held him close and let him know that he was not in this alone.