an inside thing dont

"This is all your fault," Stiles says, and means it, doesn’t realize how sharp and hot the rage is until he says it, lump lodged high in his throat, eyes stinging, this was the one thing that Stiles swore would never happen, this is his dad. “You invited her into our lives, you—”

"I’m sorry," Derek says, and Stiles can’t breathe, and the first punch comes like a gasp

and the others like hyperventilating, Stiles’ arms moving too quickly, fists landing too hard, and Derek isn’t fighting back. Stiles’ eyes are burning and his heartbeat is thundering in his ears and his whole body is too small and he’s somewhere outside it and he needs—

He’s still hitting Derek when their mouths smash together, his fists still swinging like pendulums, but it sinks in as he drags his head back, breathes cool clear air that’s been missing for too long. Derek’s mouth tastes like metal and mint and salt, the world’s incessant static hum settles under Stiles’ skin, panic and fury cooling into purpose, focus, clarity, and Stiles pulls back, looks at him—

"Oh my god," Jeff says, and the whole scene shatters into Tyler and Dylan, still catching their breath, still just staring.