Author's Note: Sorry, it's not my usual fluffy stuff for these two! I have bottomless well of Derek Hale feels!

(+3 years, 3 months) Stiles gets it when he has bad days and seems to know instinctively whether he needs to be left alone or if he needs to bury his face against Stiles' neck and cry. The bad days are getting further and further apart.

Stiles gets it.

Gets what it's like to still have days when everything feels pointless, futile, when giving up would be easier than carrying on, when the dark thoughts inside his head threatened to swallow him whole. On those days, he more irritable and snappy than usual, wanting nothing more than to shut himself away from everyone until he could face the world again.

Which is why it hurt him so much when Derek pushed him away the first time he recognised that same defeated look on Derek's face a few months after they got together. Derek apologised a few days later, not just for pushing Stiles away and snapping at him, but for feeling the way he had, mumbling about "nearly seven years" and "should have got over it". He'd hated that Derek even felt that he had to apologise for feeling low, for missing the people he loved. Derek had admitted that he'd been worried Stiles wouldn't have understood, would have cracked jokes, done stupid things, been incessantly Stiles in a bid to drag him out of his funk.

No, Stiles had explained, he wouldn't have done that; Scott had always resorted to that when they'd been in high school, asking Stiles quietly if he'd taken his tablets that day. Tablets. Zoloft. The hated, despised, deplored Zoloft that was supposed to make everything feel better but had just reminded him every day that there was something wrong with him. That he was depressed. On those days, Scott would inevitably turn to making weak jokes, lame remarks about teachers, trying to drag a smile, a laugh, anything out of Stiles. He loves Scott like a brother, always has done since they met in kindergarten, but on those days he hated Scott, hated his forced cheerfulness, hated himself more for making Scott worry about him. On better days, he'd tried to explain to Scott that trying to cheer him up didn't help, made feel worse. Scott had nodded and said that he got it, but he hadn't, would always fall back into the same old routine because it was the only way he knew how to deal with Stiles' bad days.

Scott never got it.

. o o o .

He recognises the look on Derek's face as he finally emerges from bed, padding slowly down the spiral staircase wearing one of Stiles' many hoodies, the purple one that's too big for him but he bought because he likes the colour so much. It fits Derek perfectly, although he knows that's not why Derek is wearing it right now. He gives Derek a small smile as he walks slowly over to the couch, waiting to see what Derek needs of him. He's gotten better at gauging how to react to Derek's bad days, knows when to wordlessly hand him the keys to the Camaro so he can drive around until he feels better, when to leave the apartment because Derek needs to be alone, when to talk softly about what's bothering him, when to say nothing at all.

One of those days then, Stiles thinks as Derek sinks onto the couch beside him, leaning heavily against his shoulder until he lies back against the arm of the couch. Derek immediately follows, resting his head on Stiles' stomach and fisting his hand in his t-shirt. Stiles slides one hand into Derek's hair, stroking and petting at it gently, pulling his phone from his pocket with his other hand and texting Scott, letting him know he won't be able to hang out with him and Isaac today. He knows he's not leaving the apartment, hell even the couch, for a good few hours. He doesn't bother telling Derek that he's cancelled on Scott and Isaac because he'll only insist that he go, that he have fun with his friends instead of sitting on the couch silently all day. Stiles nearly cried the first time he became aware he was prioritising Derek over Scott, had spent an entire week playing on the Xbox and hanging out with him, feeling guilty until Scott got suspicious and asked why he wasn't with Derek. Scott had laughed when he'd admitted why he was being weird, telling him he didn't mind, could see how important Derek was to him, how important he was to Derek. Reminded him that they were bros and would be forever and to stop worrying. There'd be a very manly hug before Scott had told him to go away, pointing out it had been a week and he wanted to hang out with Allison and Isaac at some point.

"Thanks." Derek mutters drowsily against his stomach several hours later. "For being here. For being you."

The front of his t-shirt is damp from where Derek cried earlier, quiet little sobs over family Stiles had never met, would never know but Derek still loves. He doesn't care about his shirt, doesn't care that his back was aching from so long spent in the same position on the couch, doesn't care that it's after nine and he hasn't eaten all day.

He just shrugs, continues threading his fingers through Derek's hair, stroking the warm soft skin on the back of his neck, says nothing.

He gets it.