Intro: This is set somewhere in the middle of season 2. Therefore some upcoming events on the show (hinted in the trailers) will already have occurred and will sometimes be referred to in this story. But since I for obvious reasons (Obvious reasons being that I'm not super rich from stock trading and live betting) cannot see into the future, I don't know how season 2 will unfold and I've therefore had to label this as AU. The universe is mostly the same, except it's running on my future head canon.
How many chai latte can one guy drink? I mean, the dude hasn't even been to the toilet. It's disturbing, that's what it is. Bladder that size just ain't normal.
Pff, normal. Listen to yourself. Who the hell are you to talk about what's normal? My whole life's a freak show.
"Stilinski!" Stiles manages to pull himself out of his own mind and turn just in time to see the manager's angry face before two huge paws lands on his shoulders and spins him back to face the full coffee shop.
"Look at all those people, Stilinski." the manager barks from behind him, hands still resting on Stiles' shoulders. "Tell me what you see!"
Stiles pulls a face, knowing well enough that the manager won't be able to see it. "Umm, blonds, brunettes. A guy currently on his sixth chai latte?" He lists, trying to shrug before remembering that ten pounds of ham-like hands are currently pressing down on his shoulders.
"I. See. Profit." The manager stresses every word like it's a magic spell that requires precise pronunciation. "I see rich little girls with their puppies and their daddy's credit cards and even richer boys trying to get in their pants, so for the next twenty minutes, 'till your shift is over, Stilinski, why don't you spend some of your boundless teen energy on getting those little sugar canes to spend some of those delicious money and leave the depressing inner monolouges to bad actors in hospital shows! Okay, Stilinski? Okay!"
And then finally the dead weight leaves his shoulders and Stiles lets his entire upper body slouch over the counter, planting his face on the cold glass and squeezing his eyes shut.
Yeah, okay. Twenty more minutes, I can do that. I've got this, no biggy. Uh, blond girl, God you're attractive.
"Hey, Stiles!" A deep voice demands and Stiles feels a chill down his spine. "Can I get some service here?"
He almost walks off, but manages to clench his fists and turn to face Derek who is leaning on the counter on one elbow.
"Out socializing with your friends?" Stiles deadpans, leaning to the side to look behind Derek, mockingly waving at the empty air.
"Shut up. I need your help." Derek snaps.
"My help? My help? What could Derek Hale possibly need my help for? I can't think of a single thing. As a matter of fact, the last thing you growled at me was to `mind my own damn business.´ " Stiles lowers his voice to a passable rumble at the last bit, pushing out his chest and keeping his arms awkwardly out form his body in a comic attempt to burly up and imitate Derek's larger body. "And even if my sensitive human emotion hadn't been irrevocably hurt by your less than gentle farewell I wouldn't be able to help you out - buddy - as I have 20 more minutes 'till I get off from work. And you can't stay here unless you order something."
"You get off from work now. Go get your jacket and meet me at your jeep in two minutes." Derek pushes off the counter and straightens up to his full height and Stiles has to admit to himself that he's very impressive when he does that.
"You're not the boss of me!" He lamely protests, but Derek just inhales deeply, and then lets out a very low growl.
"Yeah, okay. Jacket. Jeep. Two minutes." Stiles rambles weakly.
"One." Derek counters and leaves the store in long strides. Stiles swears under his breath.
Three minutes later Stiles comes running into the parking lot. He's changed out of his uniform, back into a short sleeved t-shirt with the words "Bite me" on his chest.
Derek only offers a quick glare at the text, then shakes his head with an expression that clearly stated that he can't even be bothered to comment on the irony. Instead he slips into the passenger seat of Stiles' jeep, waiting to be driven around like Stiles is his own personal man-servant.
"So where exactly are we going?" Stiles asks as he pulls out of the parking lot and unto the busy street.
"You missed practice today." Derek says as if that's an answer.
"I miss practice all days. I'm off the team, remember? Someone told me I had to because Jackson couldn't control his wolfiness around me."
"Turns out Jackson can't control his …" Derek stops, reluctant to repeat the word wolfiness. "…Himself around anyone. He bit someone at practice today."
"What?" Stiles almost hurts his neck turning his head so fast, searching Derek's face for more information. "That's not good, that's actually bad. Why didn't Scott call me?"
"Scott doesn't do anything unless I tell him to." Derek just growls.
"Really, not anything? Could you stop telling him to make out with Allison during lunch then, because that is really starting to get on my…"
"Stiles!" Derek barks. "Focus!"
"Yeah, okay. Focus. So who did he bite, please don't say the coach, please do not say…"
"Danny." Derek's voice is low, somewhere between a whisper and a growl. "He bit a kid named Danny."
Stiles can feel his own heart stopping for a few beats, his entire body going cold and then flush hot when the adrenalin hits his system. "What? No, no, no, no, no, NO! No way man, Jackson likes Danny, he wouldn't hurt him."
"As I recall it, Scott tried to kill you when he was a new wolf."
"Yeah, but that is like…. not different at all, come to think of it. So where are we going?"
"Really? You didn't take him to the hospital?" Stiles actually perks up at this. Perhaps Danny wasn't that badly injured after all if they didn't have to take him to the hospital.
"They cleaned him up, but we had to get him out of there. He's already healing."
Stiles does his best to keep his eyes on the road, to keep from crashing the car into a tree when realization hits him "Oh. Oooooh! So Jackson actually turned him, holy shit, that's fucked up. I thought it had to be an Alpha."
There's a silence and Stiles knows that something is coming, something that Derek doesn't want to say and doesn't want Stiles to hear.
"What, so Jackson is the Alpha now? I miss out on everything!"
"Jackson's not the Alpha, no."
"So what, you bit Danny?" The silence is even heavier now and if Derek notices that the speed of the car just went from `very fast´ to `light speed´ he doesn't comment. "The Argents are gonna skin you for this."
"I had to." Derek finally confess, voice as low as ever. "He wouldn't have made it otherwise."
When the asphalt road turns into dirt, Derek tells Stiles to stop the engine. It's not until Derek slides out of the car and runs off between the trees that Stiles realizes Derek is actually expecting them to go the rest of the way on foot. He wants to point out that while Derek's Camaro might not do well in the wet mud of the forest, the Jeep is actually made for stuff like that, but Derek is already gone and Stiles realizes that he's shaking from cold and that it's getting dark inhere where the sun's last light doesn't quite reach.
Reluctantly he starts jogging after Derek, even though the werewolf is already gone from sight. About a mile in he hears someone coming towards him and sees Derek's large body running up to him between the trees. He doesn't comment on Stiles pace, but runs a few circles around him and then runs off again.
"That's not enervating at all." Stiles mumbles and picks up his pace.
He's panting when he arrives at the burned down house, and he might or might not have gotten stuck in mud more than once, and he has to stop and rest his hands on his knees for a few seconds before he pulls it together and walks into the house.
Derek's waiting inside and in a corner is Jackson, wolfed out, apparently tending to Danny's healing wounds.
"Should I be here when he's like that?" Stiles asks, realizing he sounds like a girl he clears his throat. "Because you know, I don't want to hurt him if it comes to a fight."
Derek just frowns and Stiles turns his attention back to Jackson, but when he realizes what Jackson is doing he jumps and spins around to face the door, taking deep breaths.
"Is he licking Danny's wounds?" He whispers, knowing full well that both Jackson and Derek can hear him anyway. It just feel like something you would want to not say out loud.
"It'll help the healing process." Derek explains coldly, as if Stiles very normal(he thinks) reaction to someone licking someone else's wounds is beyond rude.
"That's just not sanitary, like - at all." Stiles continues to whisper, but for some reason the complete monster truck car crash that is going on in the corner somehow manages to draw his attention back again.
"Where's Scott?" He asks, and decides that looking at Derek's face is still a better option than keeping his eyes glued to what ever the hell Jackson is doing to Danny.
"He's off with Allison, trying to negotiate with her father." Derek also takes his eyes off Jackson, focusing instead on Stiles. "They're having a difficult time accepting that I've gone from turning misfits and social outcast to turning some of the best and brightest in this town into Werewolves. Apparently they're a little pissed right now-"
"How dare they!" Stiles exclaims in mockingly horror, earning a ruthless stare from Derek that he ignores. "What am I doing here again?"
"I need to go meet Scott at the Argents, I need you to stay until he comes back here."
Stiles spins around himself and pinches the bridge of his nose when he again faces Derek.
"Okay One, Should I even be alone with those guys? They aren't really the incarnation of control right now. And Two, you're going to go to the Argents? Are you crazy? Scratch that, I know you are, but you're usually so solid about it. What are you thinking, they'll chain you up and use you for dart board."
"Look, if I don't go there, they'll just come here. And then the whole pack is screwed. Hopefully Scott and Allison will have been able to talk some sence into her father's head by the time I get there."
"Hopefully? Yeah, lets just go with hopefully, that's a good plan, very Hollywood, I might add."
"And Jackson will keep you safe here, he'll change back before I leave." Derek continues, ignoring everything Stiles said. "I just need you to look after Danny. He's a little freaked, so I didn't want to leave him alone with Jackson. He needs something to distract him."
"You're so talkative and bossy today. I like that." Stiles says and turns his head to look at Danny, who's waking up in the corner, but Derek grabs him by the jaw and pulls his face back.
"Don't try to be a hero about this Stiles. If Jackson tells you to move, you move, you get that?" Derek growls and his eyes bore into Stiles, not letting him go until Stiles nods awkwardly. "Yeah, I would say I got that." He rants quietly, trying to look away from Derek's steady gaze.
Derek lets go of Stiles' jaw and finally retracts his enormous body to a more socially acceptable distance. "Jackson!" he yells and in the now dark corner Jackson gets to his feet and Stiles sees that he's human again, well as human as the guy can get.
"Three hours." Derek tells Jackson. "When it gets fully dark you move Stiles to the cellar, you got that? Hopefully Scott will be back soon to take him home." Derek doesn't wait for answer before he's gone.
Stiles ignores the way that Jackson's eyes pierce his back as he moves to sit next to Danny on the floor. "So Danny boy, how are you? You look golden, I might add." He gets a weak chuckle from the injured soon-wolf. "You wanna try cleaning that wound with water and soap, or are you sticking to saliva today?"
"Please don't make me laugh, Stilinski. It really hurts." Danny chokes out, but there's still a small smile on his face.
"Okay, buddy. Let's just get you cleaned up and throw on some sassy bandages before you're done turning and want to rip my insides out, okay?"
He trows Jackson a glance over his shoulder and for a few seconds their eyes interlock and Stiles realizes that Jackson is crying. And he's not even trying to hide it.
Danny is surprisingly agreeable, allowing Stiles full access to his various cuts and bites. From what Stiles can make out Jackson bit him two times, teeth marks going deep and uncontrolled. And then there's the third set of teeth marks, right in the soft patch of his abdominal muscle. These marks are precise and just breaking skin, barely drawing blood.
As Stiles continue his examination Jackson is pacing the darkening room. Once in a while Danny lifts his eyes to look at Jackson and Stiles can hear the werewolf stop pacing, just for a short moment.
"You know there was a time where I'd give anything to have your hands all over me." Danny whispers quietly to Stiles at one point, but when Stiles' eyes moves from the claw makes he's treating to meet Danny's, the injured teen just smiles and closes his eyes. "But I got over you when I realized what a little piece of shit annoying, hyperactive brat you were." He says, and a smile splits his face. "Pretty though."
Stiles can't help but smile. "I knew I was attractive to gay guys!" he jokes and shakes his head as he returns to Danny's wounds. "These are almost healed."
Jackson stops his pacing again and comes to crouch beside Stiles. "Scott should have been here by now." He says annoyed. "It's dark."
"I'm sure they're almost here, we should call them." Stiles gets to his feet, but regrets it instantly when Jackson takes the upraised position as an invitation to step into Stiles' personal space. "I already called them." Jackson hisses in his ear, hand coming up to rest on Stiles' shoulder as if it's the most natural contact in the world. "I called Derek too. I even called Allison, she send me to voice mail!"
"That sounds bad."
"You think? Look, I know Derek said I should get you in the cellar, but if the Argents are coming, then they're coming here, and I can't protect you if you're stuck in a cellar, and Danny's every bit as likely to fight us as he is to fight them. He needs a lot of bonding before he knows where he belongs."
"Hey I can hear you fine." Danny says and crawls to his knees. "And maybe our friendship means shit to you, Jackson, since apparently you just shred who ever you're pissed at, but I don't work like that okay? I do in fact know where my loyalties lies. Where they've always been."
Jackson turns to asses Danny as the other man scrambles to his feet. "I don't doubt that you believe that." He says roughly, but there's a softness there too. "But I'm talking about the wolf in you Danny. He hasn't met the pack yet."
"Look let's just all get in the cellar. If they come snooping here, hopefully they'll think the place is empty and be on their merry way." Stiles suggest.
"You seriously want to be locked inside a small room with two unstable new-wolves?" Jackson raises his eyebrows in challenge, but then he shakes his head and steps back out of Stiles' personal space, taking the hand on Stiles' shoulder with him. "Look, Derek left me in control, and believe me, I can and will manhandle your precious ass into that cellar if I have to." He takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes locked with Stiles', almost begging to be challenged on this. "I just don't want anyone locked in a cellar if we can avoid that."
"I don't know if I have a say in this, but not being locked in a cellar is certainly something I can get behind." Danny says and then raises his finger at Jackson, cutting off the incoming pun before it's spoken, with a "Don't go there."
"I wasn't even thinking about making a joke about what you do or do not get behind." Jackson says, smile on his face.
"And yet somehow you managed to do that anyway." Danny points out and then turns to Stiles. "You wouldn't happen to have a laptop with you?"
"There's one in my bag in my car. But that's miles away."
"What do you need a laptop for?" Jackson asks.
"Well they'll have cell phones, right? I mean, hunters or not they're still humans, so they're bound to have phones. I can track them, GPS, see if anyone is closing in on where we are. I can even track Derek and Scott, see if they're somewhere that would scream trouble."
"I love having you on our team." Stiles breathes, and there might have been a bit of worship in his voice, but he'll never admit to it.
"I'll do the milk run, but you two will have to stay in the cellar while I'm gone." Jackson says and holds out his hand for Stiles' keys. Stiles hands them over reluctantly.
"Are we sure that's safe?" Stiles whispers nodding towards Danny and Danny crosses his arms over his chest and snorts.
"Just don't get him pissed for like ten minutes, can you do that Stilinski?" Jackson bites back and shoves them both towards the cellar. As the heavy door closes behind him, Stiles thinks perhaps that he can feel one of his old panic attacks coming on.
Derek isn't exactly sure when things went wrong. But he was becoming intensely aware that trouble these days with alarmingly increased frequency started with Scott and his big mouth.
When you're a werewolf trying to survive and keeping your pack safe with a family of hunters breathing down your neck it was really important to stay - friendly - with said hunters. And Scott was really good at that, surprise, the boy wasn't useless in all regards. But he just couldn't' keep his mouth shut for very long.
Derek can feel the intense burn of fear and adrenalin rush through his body the moment the words left Scott's mouth.
"What about Lydia?" Argent's voice is rippled with ice cold anger.
"Oh, well. Don't worry," Scott tries to smooth things over. "We have it under control."
"You assured me that Lydia was taken care of. Where is she now?" Argent demands, looking past Scott, past his daughter and straight at Derek, who In Chris Argent's eyes, is responsible for all rogue creatures on the territory.
"We don't know." Derek admits. "She's not like us. She's … something else."
"Dad!" Allison pipes up. "She hasn't hurt anyone since then and you know it! You know she had no idea what she was doing."
"She's a lose canon, and that's even worse!" Argent corrects.
"Dad, she's my best friend, please don't do anything reckless."
"I think you're just about out of free passes to hand out to monsters by now, Allison." Argent all but yells, and Allison's face is painted with shock.
"Dad, please!" She tries again, and Derek keeps his eyes on Argent's face. It's the decision he makes now that'll determine of they run or fight.
"It's not up to your father anymore," Comes a soft voice from the open doorway. "I've already called Gerard. He was very interested in her the last time." Allison's mother says in her silky voice, dripping of spider poison. "It's out of our hands now."
Barely a split second after Derek makes his move to run, Scott is right behind him. They tumble trough the glass of the nearest window, getting to their feet in synchronized sweeping motions and as bullets fly around their ears they head out into the night, just as eight hunters from nearby cities gets in their cars to drive.
"Is there a plan?" Scott breathes as the two of them race through the dark city, heading for the forest. Derek digs out his phone, and waits until Isaac picks up, so he can give the order to both of them at the same time.
"We need to find Lydia." Derek growls. "We need to catch her and prove that she can control it now. If not, they'll kill all of us." Isaac just hangs up without commenting, but Derek knows he'll join them soon.
"Yeah, I'm sure they'll listen to reason." Scott shoots back, but Derek just growls at him.
"You're the one who wants to work with the humans, Scott. This is how it's done."
In his pocket his phone vibrates and shortly after Scott's does the same. Neither of them slows down to pick up.
They've never tracked anything like Lydia before. She's all alien sent and erratic behavior. They don't know her strength and Derek is betting she doesn't know her own strength either, is hoping that is the case. Because he's pretty sure she's not only a new kind of beast, she's also cunning, smart as hell and fast. If it was to come to a real fight Derek wouldn't like their odds.
But what worries him is that the Hunters closing in on them doesn't have any interest in putting Lydia's abilities to the test. They're coming to shoot and kill, not to bag and tag. And that might be something he could overlook, after all Lydia was never a part of his pack, even if Peter was the one to turn her into what ever beast she's become.
No, Derek worries about his own, his pack. The lost boys from all different places in society, brought together under his rule. They might not be blood, but they damn sure are family.
Scott, who has the biggest heart in the world, fitting in everyone he comes across and keeping them there, never letting go.
Jackson, with his strength and inner power, his abilities to make quick decisions and keep his friends safe. Even with all his insecure anger issues he would rather be a part of a pack than to stand out on his own.
Isaac, who's been lost and alone all his life, acknowledging the bite for what it is: A gift. He's full of a lot of contradicting impulses, but the need to be wanted and belong is the strongest and Derek knows he will fight for the pack with his life.
Danny, the new one in the pack, smart and gentle and trying to please. Trying, all the time to be better and to hold everyone else up, even if they have to step on him to get there. Derek's very pleased Danny ended in the pack. He needs one like Danny, someone who selfless.
And Stiles. Derek can't help but think of Stiles as part of the pack. In many ways, he thinks, Stiles is the glue. The one they'd all, even Jackson, fight teeth and claw to protect, almost like he's a cub they need to keep safe. Almost as if all their struggles and fighting is for Stiles benefit. Because if he wasn't there they'd all just fall apart. Derek would fall apart.
They run into a familiar scent and Isaac is waiting for them there. "It's Lydia." He says. "She isn't turned."
"All the better for us." Scott says, and Derek can only agree. They follow the scent along a clear stream, zigzagging through the trees and find her sitting naked on a flat rock in a patch of sun, apparently consumed by the mirror of her own face. Derek signals for Scott and Isaac to stay back, only getting a few more steps closer himself; They haven't forgotten what she is capable of.
In her human form she's weak, she bleeds and breaks. But her senses are still enhanced and even though she doesn't move when they close in, Derek doesn't doubt she knows they're there.
"I didn't want this, you know. To be a freak." She says with out looking up. "I just wanted to go to College, somewhere where the boys weren't scared of me because I have a brain. How am I supposed to do that as a were-lizard? I'm pretty sure that's a bigger dread factor."
"You can control it now." Derek reminds her. "You can be normal if you want."
Lydia snaps her head up and glare at him. "Do you know how it feels? When ever I feel someone who's evil or selfish or being a dick, I just want to rip their throat out!" She snarls. "I was created for vengeance and the only way I can control it - as you so delicately put it - is to isolate myself in the effing forest like an effing critter!" She's furious, but she isn't turning. There is nothing here to avenge, no trigger for her. So Instead she returns her stare to the water surface. "Why are you here, Derek?"
"We need you to come with us so we can prove you're harmless. And if you're with us they can see we're harmless too. It would prove that we've done nothing wrong." Derek tries, but just then Lydia spins so fast it's almost all blur, even for the werewolves and their lycan senses.
"You put me in a room with those people and I'll kill them all!" She growls and then jumps at them, turning in the darkness into darkness, into almost invisible scales and claws and then she's gone in the night.
"We can't just keep chasing her." Isaac says. "She's faster than us."
"Yes, but I think I know where she's going." Derek can feel something that's not the chill of the night ice his blood. "And I think the hunters knows too."
They run. They run like they've never run before and Derek is secretly impressed that Scott and Isaac can keep up with him. But this? This is worth the pain of hardly being able to draw breath into your lungs, while your legs get shredded to blood on the undergrowth of the forest.
The sound of fighting draws them in, makes them run faster still. There's hunters there, fighting against the black blur of Lydia and the solid, near-human forms of Jackson and Danny. The wolves are dodging incoming shots and arrows. If Lydia takes any damage, she ignores it. Stiles, thank God, is no where to be seen.
Derek and Scott runs through the chaos, going straight for Lydia, while Isaac breaks off to take down the hunters. They know that Lydia will never stop, never stop fighting until she gets what she wants, because creature or not, Lydia's just always been that kind of person. And what Lydia want now is to not be a freak anymore.
"Scott!" The call is shrill and scared, high-pitched enough to make it through the dozen of other voices yelling around them. Allison pulls the string on her bow, but she can't fire the arrow. If she's afraid to hit Scott or Lydia, it's impossible to tell. Derek doesn't spare her any more attention. She's with Scott and in extension part of the pack, but she's not his problem right now. He needs to get Lydia subdued. He wonders if his Alpha powers will work on her.
Just then Allison makes the decision and lets the arrow go. It spins through the threes and Derek can follow it easily with his eyes. It lands and go deep into flesh and bone, and Lydia roars.
Before the hunters have even caught up to the new level of threat, Lydia sets off and leaps for Allison. Beautiful, sweet Allison who doesn't stand a chance.
But it's not Allison that gets hit by her. It's Stiles. He's there, out of nowhere - Derek hadn't even smelled him - pushing Allison to the ground and taking sharp claws to the chest, like ten synchronized bullets piercing his flesh, claws ripping up the side of his skin.
Lydia rolls on the ground when she lands, stilling and then starting to shake as she changes back. Even before the naked shape of Lydia has rolled to her knees, crawling forwards towards the bleeding body of Stiles, Derek is by his side.
He doesn't even realize that he falls to his knees beside the bleeding teen; suddenly everything is just a blur. He hears Lydia crying, begging for Stiles to get up, but he shoves her aside brutally and then the rest of the pack is there, pulling her away, Allison's voice mingling in with the other hunters as they start fighting.
Derek is Alpha, he should be the one making demands and calling the shots, but instead his hands sweap over Stiles still body, searching out injuries. There's four deep cuts going from Stiles hip to his ribs and it's bleeding, it's bleeding heavily. Derek swallows. He didn't even know how much he had been fearing this. Stiles is so completely fragile and so stupidly careless with his own life.
Actually, come to think of it, Derek is pretty surprised that Stiles' managed to go this far with them with out getting killed or at least hurt. But somehow Stiles is just always fine. Except this time.
"It's okay Stiles, I've got you. I'll make it stop." He finds himself whispering as he gets to his feet, Stiles in his arms, carrying the bleeding teen to the closure of the house.
"No." Stiles chokes out. "I don't want you to turn me. I don't want that."
"Could you for once shut up? We both know you're lying."
But Stiles' huge brown eyes finds Derek's in the dim light and his stare is focused and his voice is adamant, "No, Derek. Don't."
"You're such an idiot, Stiles." Derek finds himself saying, and he's not sure where he finds the voice.
Stiles tries to keep eye contact with Derek, because he needs the werewolf to understand that he's serious.
Derek clenches his jaw. "Jackson come here!" He yells, and the rumble of it vibrates through Stiles' body and only then does he realize that he's in Derek's arms pressed against his chest.
Jackson is there in less that an second, kneeling beside the two.
"I need you to lick his wounds." Derek says slowly and clearly.
"What? no!" Stiles manages to protest, but both men just look down on him and bark in union: "Shut up Stiles!"
"Why do I have to?" Jackson asks, keeping his voice quiet.
"Because Scott is busy playing liaison and I can't do it, because I'll risk turning him."
"Fine I'll do it." Jackson squirms and his hands are on Stiles chest, opening the torn shirt. "Can you at least knock him out or something so I don't have to have him starring at me like that?"
Derek's eyes move up Stiles body, ending on his eyes.
Stiles doesn't realize until just then, that the last few minutes has been like watching a movie. Like seeing something fascinating and revolting through someone else's eyes, but now he's realizing that this is all in fact happening. He is actually bleeding to death, and just then the pain returns and he blacks out.
He comes through hours later in his own room, and for ten glorious seconds he doesn't remember a thing. But then he notices how dry his throat is and he coughs once. And then the pain in his side spikes and he almost screams.
He turns his head and almost screams a second time, but he keeps his dignity(mostly), instead just letting out a surprised yelp, when he sees Derek sitting on a chair, pulled up to the side of his bed.
His hands slowly finds his own bandaged side, fingers gently prodding around the sore wound running form his hip to his rib cage. He stops when he feels his fingertips getting wet.
"You're bleeding again." Derek confirms and the other man gets to his feet and moves Stiles' covers away to examine the bandages.
Stiles chooses to ignore the whole blood thing going on and instead tries to recall what the hell happened. "How did I get here?" he asks, and grits his teeth as Derek starts to peal of the blood-soaked bandages.
"I carried you." Derek says and continues his pealing.
It's not much in the way of explanations, but Stiles does in fact recall something like that. He remembers getting picked up gently and wind on his face making him turn his head into the warmth of something solid.
"Maybe, and I'm not saying this to be all sensible or anything, but maybe you should have taken me to the hospital."
"Your father would have asked questions. We couldn't risk it."
"And by `we´ you mean the pack, I take it." He tries not to sound too pissy, but really - this is his life they're talking about. "How about risking my life? I guess that's less important than the pack?"
"You are pack." Derek says so matter of factly that it throws Stiles for a whole minute. Derek finishes removing the soaked bandages and starts cleaning away the blood with a damp towel.
When Stiles finally finds words to say again his mind has jumped to a completely different topic. "I'm going to die aren't I?"
"No." Derek says, voice controlled, but snappy.
"I'm too young to die, I haven't done any of the things on my list and I'm still in high school, I'm still a virgin and I'm going to die!" He rambles, but it's a little bit of a show, he knows that, because dying doesn't freak him out as much anymore. He's been caught up in this whole werewolf thing long enough to have faced death a few times and he's come to terms with the fact that he's a reckless human that's going to get killed by his best friend or his best friend's pack some day. So yeah, it's a bit of a show, but when Derek grumbles "Shut up." There's a slight smile on his face and it's totally worth it.
"I need to call Scott." Derek says, eye brows closing together in a frown. "I need someone to come and- " He stops himself from saying the words, but Stiles is not stupid, so when the larger man continues "- fix this." Stiles knows that Derek means that Scott has to come and put his spit all over Stiles wounds so they'll close up again. He's surprisingly uncomfortable with this fact.
"Where is Scott, he should be here on my death bed." Stiles jokes, but the glare he receives from Derek shuts him up.
"He's off with Allison. He hasn't called back."
"So he doesn't know about any of this?" Stiles asks, eyes wide.
"He knows. He's doing damage control."
"What about Jackson?"
"He and Isaac are babysitting Danny, trying to teach him how to turn back."
"So who's gonna drool on me?" Stiles asks and looks up at Derek, but Derek doesn't return his stare, just shakes his head.
"I could risk turning you." Derek says softly after a short while, and Stiles thinks perhaps this is the softest he's ever heard Derek voice go.
His own voice is equally soft when he asks, "Risk, like - how high is that risk?"
"There's always a risk when there's blood involved." Derek says, avoiding the question completely.
"How. High. Derek?" Stiles tries again, but all he gets is a quick glance from Derek.
"I'm going to try calling Scott again. Then maybe Jackson." But he doesn't. Instead he gets down on his knees next to Stiles' bed.
"I wish you'd let me bite you. I don't know how to protect you when you're like this."
Stiles doesn't know why this has become an issue for him. There was a time where he actually did want it. But not anymore, not like this. "No."
Derek sighs, and looks away from Stiles eyes, instead looking at the gashes where thick blood is still oozing at a frankly alarming speed. "Well at least this is only a 30 percent chance, so cross your fingers, kid."
And then his mouth closes over Stiles wounds and it has got to be the weirdest thing Stiles has ever felt as Derek's tongue makes it's way across the burning flesh of the wounds.
What the hell is happening. I did not sigh up for this. Holy shit that feels weird, at least it doesn't hurt. Actually it really doesn't hurt. It's just fucking weird. If I had known I would be a part of a horror movie I would not have picked the part that gets licked to death.
Stiles inner monologue gets interrupted when Derek's phone goes off and at the same time a deep howl pierce the night and sends shivers down Stiles' whole body. Not even ten seconds later Derek's mouth is ripped from his skin and the larger man is thrown through the air and into the wall of Stiles' bedroom.
"Get away from him." Scott growles and Stiles realizes that Scott is wolfed out, feral to the bone, but still standing there, protecting Stiles from what he assumes is a threat. Derek doesn't get to his feet, he just stretches his neck to look around Scott at Stiles' closing wounds.
And they are - closing, that is. Neatly knitting together with out quite healing. And that's the best thing Stiles ever seen in his life, because that means he's still human. And alive.