Title: it's always the little things that remind us of what we fear

Disclaimer: Me no own, You no sue

Warning: this deals with PTSD

Notes: background Sterek, mama!Stiles

-z-

It was the little things, Stiles noticed.

Little things like Derek moving too quickly or Scott yelling or Boyd raising a hand into the air.

It was the little things, Stiles noticed, that made Isaac flinch or startle or rock back on his heels.

And when Derek moved too fast, Stiles would place himself between the two wolves – staying in Isaac's line of sight.

And when Scott started on another tantrum and began to shout and throw things, Stiles would brush a hand over Isaac's arm to catch his attention. Stiles would keep his voice calm and slow and soothing and he would ask Isaac for help on homework that Stiles had had done the night before.

And when Boyd would raise a hand into the air to stretch or bat at a ceiling fan, Stiles would simply lean into Isaac, a soft and reassuring presence.

But, sometimes it wasn't just a little flinch or a slight startle. Sometimes, Isaac would wake from a nightmare choking on his own screams. And when that happened, Stiles and Derek would rush down the stairs and Stiles would go into the room while Derek watched from the door.

"I'm here, Isaac, I'm here," Stiles would repeat over and over, taking Isaac's face between his hands, looking the boy in the eyes until he was sure the person Isaac saw was Stiles and only Stiles. "I'm here, you're okay, Isaac. You're okay."

And Stiles would pull the boy close and hold him and let him cry everything out. And if it was a particularly bad night, Derek would carry the boy up to their room, and he and Stiles would curl around him – effectively fighting off Isaac's demons for one more night.

-x-

It was the little things, Stiles noticed.

Little things like Derek moving too quickly or Scott yelling or Boyd raising a hand into the air.

It was the little things, Stiles noticed, that no longer bothered Isaac like they used to.

When Derek moved too fast, Isaac's eyes tracked the movement.

When Scott threw a tantrum, Isaac would sigh and roll his eyes and make sure that none of the flying projectiles hit Stiles.

And when Boyd stretched and batted at the ceiling fans, Isaac wouldn't even lift his eyes from the television.

And slowly, even the nightmares began to recede.

-z-