Work Text:
“Try on your own,” Isaac says.
“Isaac, now’s not the time for—”
“Let him try,” Isaac insists, cutting off Derek’s protest. “He’s already got more presence of mind than he usually does. He’s retreating not attacking. Come on, Stiles,” he urges. “Breathe deep, and focus on something that matters to you. Just try. If it doesn’t work, Derek’ll help you.”
He sucks in a shaky breathe or two, trying to slow his pulse.
Something that matters. Something that matters.
Safe. Safe and home. Isaac. Derek. Dad. Scott. Lydia. Jackson. Safe. Safe and home. Isaac. Derek. Dad. Scott. Lydia. Jackson.
He can feel himself shifting back slowly.
“Good, Stiles,” Derek encourages. “That’s it. That’s perfect. Keep going.”
Safe. Safe and home. Isaac. Derek. Dad. Lydia. Jackson. Safe. Safe and home.
He feels the moment he’s completely back to human form, the red tint in his vision fades. He closes his eyes gratefully as relief washes over him so completely that his knees buckle and he slides down the wall to the floor.
“Stiles?” Derek says, voice slightly alarmed.
“Stiles, are you okay?” Isaac asks as he moves toward him. “Are you—”
Stiles opens his eyes, smiling up at Isaac, voice on the verge of giddy laughter as he replies, “I did it.”
(This section was paraphrased slightly because I'm tired and couldn't find the section I was originally looking for. But you get the gist.)
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