“Derek…” Stiles tries, hand reaching and pausing in the air between them, not sure where to go. Derek shifts away from any attempt, somehow closing in on himself without moving much at all.
“Don’t,” he mutters, and Stiles’ hand drops. He steels himself, reaches forward again, managing to close the distance until Derek shrugs him off roughly.
“Stiles,” Derek snaps, gaze focused on the ground, like he can’t stand looking up and not seeing his sister when she’s right there, “Don’t.”
Stiles takes in Derek’s defensive posture, the way he’s almost trembling from trying to hold himself together, and nods quickly, making a decision. It’s a hazardous one, but it’s a risk he has to take.
Pushing himself out of his chair, he throws his arms around Derek before the man can stop him, squeezing tightly even though he knows Derek could throw him off without any effort at all.
Derek doesn’t; he freezes, breathing shallow and muscles taut, ready to react if need be.
“Is this from Laura?” he asks after a few tense seconds have passed. Stiles can feel the strain of him fighting not to push away all throughout his body.
“No, you asshole,” he mutters, words muffled against Derek’s shoulder. “This is from me.”