SSRI - Sterek (Teen Wolf)
Title: SSRI
Pairing: Stiles/Derek Hale (Teen Wolf)
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: T
Warnings: None
Prompt: Medication
Summary: When Stiles gets new medication that starts to turn him from a lively, playful young man to a stoic, silent "Zombie", Derek decides that he will stop at nothing to help Stiles fix this.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters!
Author's Note: This is an entry from my Hurt/Comfort Bingo Card.
Recently, Stiles’ panic attacks have been getting out of hand. When he gets them now, he can’t focus on anything else, so his father takes him to a doctor, and that doctor sends him to a therapist, and that therapist loads him off on a psychiatrist, and that psychiatrist prescribes him with Prozac. “Not for depression,” she says, all too kindly, mind you. “You’re on a high dose, because it takes a high dose to help panic disorders.” She punctuates her statement with the fakest smile that Stiles has ever seen, and he snatches the prescription, stalking out of the room.
The side effects are brutal. He can’t sleep anymore, and when he does, he has dreams so vivid that it takes him 15 minutes to separate the dreams from reality when he wakes up. He isn’t hungry, and when he eats, he almost always throws it up…or has to work hard to keep it does. His father calls the doctor, because he thinks this can’t be normal, but it is. The doctor says that it takes a week or two for the side effects to subside, and when they do, everything will be good. Stiles’ dad tells him to hang in there, and Stiles tells him he’ll try, then lowers his head back on his pillow, trying to sleep away the next two weeks until he can feel like a real person again.
But he doesn’t feel real again. Two weeks come, and they go, and the dreams are still vivid. The vomiting has stopped, but everything he feels isn’t…well, it isn’t right. He doesn’t care enough, he doesn’t try enough, and he isn’t motivated, not anymore. He sits around, he lies around, and he doesn’t panic, but he also doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t smile, and worst of all, he doesn’t joke. He also doesn’t tell anyone what’s going on. A sick part of him wants to see if anyone will even notice that something’s wrong, and an even sicker part of himself hopes that they don’t, so that he doesn’t have to face it at all. Ever.
He isn’t so lucky. One night, Derek shows up at his house when he knows the Sheriff is at work. Stiles answers the door, still in the pajamas he’s been wearing since the moment he got home from school. Stiles tries to slam the door on him, but Derek blocks it, and enters anyways, reminding Stiles that he isn’t a vampire, that he doesn’t have to be invited in.
“What do you want?” Stiles asks, sitting down on the couch, opposite Derek, who chooses the armchair.
“I want to know what happened to you,” he states. “I want to know what happened to the Stiles who used to laugh, the Stiles who used sarcasm against every big, terrible beast, even the ones that he knew could kill him.”
Stiles doesn’t answer, he simply goes upstairs, grabs the small bottle of pills, and tosses them to Derek. It takes a moment, but after thinking for a few minutes, Derek realizes that these pills have stolen his friend, that they have taken away not only what was hurting Stiles, but also what was so great about him, and he doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like it at all.
Derek tells Stiles that he thinks he needs to go back to the psychiatrist and tell her that the pills aren’t working. Stiles looks down and nods, silently agreeing, because he doesn’t have any will to say anything out loud. But he thinks Derek is right, so the next day, he makes an appointment and Derek drives him. Derek waits in the adjoining room the whole time, and when Stiles comes out, he’s holding a new prescription for something else.
“I don’t know if it will work,” Stiles confides in Derek.
“We’ll try everything until we find one that does.” And then Derek does something Stiles didn’t see coming. He takes Stiles’ hand, squeezes it gently once, and leads him from the office, determined to do whatever it takes to help his friend.
Pairing: Stiles/Derek Hale (Teen Wolf)
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: T
Warnings: None
Prompt: Medication
Summary: When Stiles gets new medication that starts to turn him from a lively, playful young man to a stoic, silent "Zombie", Derek decides that he will stop at nothing to help Stiles fix this.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters!
Author's Note: This is an entry from my Hurt/Comfort Bingo Card.
Recently, Stiles’ panic attacks have been getting out of hand. When he gets them now, he can’t focus on anything else, so his father takes him to a doctor, and that doctor sends him to a therapist, and that therapist loads him off on a psychiatrist, and that psychiatrist prescribes him with Prozac. “Not for depression,” she says, all too kindly, mind you. “You’re on a high dose, because it takes a high dose to help panic disorders.” She punctuates her statement with the fakest smile that Stiles has ever seen, and he snatches the prescription, stalking out of the room.
The side effects are brutal. He can’t sleep anymore, and when he does, he has dreams so vivid that it takes him 15 minutes to separate the dreams from reality when he wakes up. He isn’t hungry, and when he eats, he almost always throws it up…or has to work hard to keep it does. His father calls the doctor, because he thinks this can’t be normal, but it is. The doctor says that it takes a week or two for the side effects to subside, and when they do, everything will be good. Stiles’ dad tells him to hang in there, and Stiles tells him he’ll try, then lowers his head back on his pillow, trying to sleep away the next two weeks until he can feel like a real person again.
But he doesn’t feel real again. Two weeks come, and they go, and the dreams are still vivid. The vomiting has stopped, but everything he feels isn’t…well, it isn’t right. He doesn’t care enough, he doesn’t try enough, and he isn’t motivated, not anymore. He sits around, he lies around, and he doesn’t panic, but he also doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t smile, and worst of all, he doesn’t joke. He also doesn’t tell anyone what’s going on. A sick part of him wants to see if anyone will even notice that something’s wrong, and an even sicker part of himself hopes that they don’t, so that he doesn’t have to face it at all. Ever.
He isn’t so lucky. One night, Derek shows up at his house when he knows the Sheriff is at work. Stiles answers the door, still in the pajamas he’s been wearing since the moment he got home from school. Stiles tries to slam the door on him, but Derek blocks it, and enters anyways, reminding Stiles that he isn’t a vampire, that he doesn’t have to be invited in.
“What do you want?” Stiles asks, sitting down on the couch, opposite Derek, who chooses the armchair.
“I want to know what happened to you,” he states. “I want to know what happened to the Stiles who used to laugh, the Stiles who used sarcasm against every big, terrible beast, even the ones that he knew could kill him.”
Stiles doesn’t answer, he simply goes upstairs, grabs the small bottle of pills, and tosses them to Derek. It takes a moment, but after thinking for a few minutes, Derek realizes that these pills have stolen his friend, that they have taken away not only what was hurting Stiles, but also what was so great about him, and he doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like it at all.
Derek tells Stiles that he thinks he needs to go back to the psychiatrist and tell her that the pills aren’t working. Stiles looks down and nods, silently agreeing, because he doesn’t have any will to say anything out loud. But he thinks Derek is right, so the next day, he makes an appointment and Derek drives him. Derek waits in the adjoining room the whole time, and when Stiles comes out, he’s holding a new prescription for something else.
“I don’t know if it will work,” Stiles confides in Derek.
“We’ll try everything until we find one that does.” And then Derek does something Stiles didn’t see coming. He takes Stiles’ hand, squeezes it gently once, and leads him from the office, determined to do whatever it takes to help his friend.