I like to think that, after weeks of playing together, it becomes a routine for Stiles to pick all the leaves and dirt out of Derek’s hair; and Derek is so use to it, he just grabs a comic book and waits till Stiles is done and ready for his turn.
Even though everyone said that elementary school was filled with wonders and laughter, Stiles would argue that third graders were ruthless.
School was tough for Stiles. Wherever he went in the school, he couldn’t escape the laughter. It wasn’t the happy kind of laughter that all kids enjoy. No, it was the laughter and taunts that were directed at Stiles.
Sure, he had Scott around, but Scott wasn’t always there. If there was a potty break, and Scott had to go, a new person would take Scott’s seat and take as many shots at Stiles as possible. They mocked him for being too small. They mocked him because he’d rather read his awesome fantasy books about werewolves than play football at recess.
It was even worse whenever he had to ride the bus.
Scott didn’t have to ride the bus because his mother would always take him in with her. Stiles mother used to take him in as well, but after she died, Stiles had to start riding the bus. His dad’s work hours were unpredictable, and for a man who is supposed to protect the innocent for a living, his job subjected Stiles to the harsh bullies of the bus.
If it was just other third graders, then Stiles would be fine. However, there were kids on the bus from kindergarten all the way up to eight grade. It was older kids who probably bugged Stiles the most, and it didn’t help that Stiles was so small that he looked like he was in first grade.
That made him an instant target. Once again, size would be Stiles’ downfall, and the fact that he would never argue back made it that much worse. He just sat in silence, trying to ignore the incessant taunting and poking from the other children. It wasn’t like the bus driver would do anything. She probably didn’t even know that there was a Stiles on the bus.
One particular morning, things got a little too intense.
“Well if it isn’t Shrimpy Stilinski!” one boy spoke up. “I’m surprised that you’re still on the bus. I wonder why you haven’t gone crying home to mommy for her help. Oh wait…you have no mommy!“
Stiles sat there in silence, gazing out the window.
"Oh don’t be so rude to Shrimpy Stilinski,” another boy said. “He couldn’t help but just cry at her side while mommy wasted away in the hospital bed.“
Again, silence. This time, there was a struggle to fight back tears.
"Guys, calm down,” came a third, this time coming from someone who was standing right next to him. “With his dad working for the police, who knows how long it will be until Shrimpy Stiles Stilinski becomes an orphan?“
"Alright, that’s enough.”
That’s when he met Derek.
A boy, from the looks of him, an eighth grader, was now up near the front of the bus where the teasing took place. He had a grey t-shirt, black jeans, and a serious scowl on his face. But no matter how intimidating the boy looked, Stiles found himself dumbstruck at something else. He was absolutely fascinated at the fact that someone would stand up for him.
“You all leave this kid alone. You’ve done enough damage here,” the older boy said. As he did, the bullies sat down, one by one. Finally, the older boy took the vacant seat beside Stiles. He place a firm, yet gentle hand on Stiles shoulder. He flinched at the sudden contact, not knowing whether or not this boy would just try to bully him. “Hey, my name’s Derek, what’s yours?“
Derek, huh?
"I…I’m Stiles…” he said slowly and without a single strand of confidence. He fidgeted with his hands out of nervousness while still looking at Derek. Stiles still didn’t know if he could trust him.
“Well Stiles,” Derek spoke up. “Is it okay if I sit here with you? I promise that no one will bug you again. At least, not while I’m here!“
"Okay…thank you,” Stiles replied.
“What grade are you in, Stiles?” Derek asked, a warm smile on his face.
“Third…” Stiles answered again.
“Oh! I have a sister around your age! Her name is Cora,” Derek explained.
On the rest of the way to school, they talked about superheroes and cartoons. Stiles thought that it was pretty awesome that Derek liked Batman too. By the time they arrived at the building, Derek had promised to sit by Stiles every day, and Stiles had a feeling that they would become the best of friends.
For the next few weeks, Stiles would get on the bus and sit with Derek. When he got off in the afternoon, it would be at the Hale house. Stiles, Derek, and Cora would run around and play tag among other things. When the leaves began to fall off the trees, they would rake a big pile and jump in them to their hearts’ content.
One day though, something was different.
As it had been for the last few weeks, it was routine for Stiles to pick all the leaves and dirt out of Derek’s hair. Derek was so used to it, he just grabbed a comic book and waited until Stiles was done and ready for his turn. But while Stiles was picking the leaves out from Derek’s head after they jumped into their biggest pile yet, Derek noticed something.
He noticed Band-Aid on Stiles’ knee, and a fresh looking bruise on his other knee. Sure, Stiles’ face was still rosy and he radiated happiness, it was almost overkill. Stiles finished, and Derek put down his comic.
“My turn!” Stiles said, and he turned around so Derek could pick the leaves out of his hair. That’s when Derek noticed the third bruise, just barely peeking out from underneath the back of Stiles’ red hoodie. Derek gently brushed his thumb over it, and Stiles winced in pain.
Derek felt just as much pain as the boy inside. He spun Stiles round to face him.
“Stiles,” he choked out, his voice cracking and full of concern. “Who did this to you?“
Stiles froze.
"I…I fell,” Stiles replied, the light from his eyes was completely gone. He had used this response to lie to his dad many times and hide the fact that he had been hit. “Could you…not touch it? It still hurts…"
Derek said nothing.
He pulled Stiles close, embracing him softly while whispering into his ear. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,“ Derek kept repeating. “You’re safe now.”
He held Stiles there while the small boy broke down, clutching onto Derek’s shirt and burying his face into Derek’s shoulder to cry. And never once did Derek try to pull away. He just gently rubbed Stiles’ back, and acted as a much needed anchor for the fragile little boy.
Q A Q
