prompt: #23. this might hurt
summary: She wasn't there voluntarily, but perhaps something about him made her want to stay.
disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.
Before Allison could realize that the wound would heal on its own and her efforts were unnecessary, the ball of alcohol-drenched cotton in her hand had already kissed his open cut.
"What are you doing?" His voice rang like thunder in the silent room. Allison flinched and blinked wide-eyed at him.
She would have left school grounds immediately after she knew Boyd and Cora had been contained, but she ran into Isaac and Scott in the parking lot. Scott's brows furrowed with the onset of questions, but Boyd weighed on him and so he managed a small smile and kept moving. Isaac, on the other hand, gave her this look.
This look of, 'Derek is still back there. Please, please check up on him.' It was this terrible pleading look that only lasted for a second, but Allison felt an internal groan as she didn't have the heart to walk away.
And so she headed to the boiler room with a less than impressive first aid kit and kind of shuffled awkwardly inside.
Derek didn't pay her any attention. He had been talking to Ms. Blake, trying to contain the situation. Overall, he had been honest and convincing in his explanation, a soft and communicable side that Allison had not yet witnessed.
She had listened quietly and was fumbling with her own injury—a cut across her palm that went deeper than she had intended. She soon gave up on bandaging it as the cloth continually became loose. She disregarded the wound as minor and thought it best if she left it alone. After all, if her father were to see her hand wrapped and find out that she had been involved…
To keep her mind from lingering on the potential wrath her father might unleash, Allison looked for a project. And she found Derek with open wounds and gaping cuts and didn't give it much thought before soaking a cotton ball and touching it to his skin.
It was the first time in a long while where his demeanor towards her wasn't threatening or hateful. He sounded concerned and reached for her, to which she backed away out of reflex. The cotton ball dropped from her alarmed fingers and Allison stared blankly at him. "S-sorry," she mumbled.
Derek sighed and looked exhausted. He turned back to Ms. Blake and after listening to what she said she saw—her confidence made it unreasonable to tell her that she had hallucinated out of fear and lack of sleep—Derek requested that she keep the rampaging werewolves story under wraps. He had saved her life after all and so she consented.
Shortly thereafter Chris Argent strolled into the boiler room and grimaced. He saw the teacher, saw Derek looking like he nearly died—which was the correct assumption—and saw Allison standing near them with a first aid kit and absolutely no reason to be there.
Despite the interrogation that Allison felt was about to wash over her, her father opted to ignore her and addressed Derek. "Scott and Isaac are back at your place with the other two. They said a certain teacher," Chris eyed Ms. Blake warily, "might need an escort home. You should also head back before the janitors come in."
Ms. Blake glanced at Derek who gave her a reaffirming nod. "He will make sure you get home safely. You should probably take the day off."
Ms. Blake displayed a small smile and thanked Derek again, a genuine gesture that the alpha was not used to. Afterward, she rose from the stool and after giving a nod to Allison, followed Chris out. Before her father left, he gave her a quick, rigid look that clearly messaged, "Get. Home. Now."
The door of the boiler room closed and Derek and Allison stood dumbfounded before each other.
Overall, it had been a rough night and upon the reveal of her mother's actual intentions before her death, Allison felt that her despise of the alpha had been too excessive. However, she was not apologetic towards him and would stand by the decisions that she had made.
The silence was suffocating and so Allison reached over to close her first aid kit and leave. Derek's hand, coated with dried blood, moved to stop her.
"Your hand," he said, nodding to the wound. His voice was cold but his movements were quick and astonishingly, they were gentle.
Before Allison could react, he was already holding her injured hand and examining the damage. She tried to pull her hand back but he had a steady grip on it and she decided that for once, they had fought enough.
For once, Allison was finished with being angry and vengeful. She was done gritting her teeth and trying to unnecessarily defend herself against him, trying to prove something to him. She was tired and the truth about her mother was beginning to settle and gnaw at her pride—had her father known?
Just this once, she let in the warmth of contact. She watched Derek carefully as he held her hand with his right and reached for a cotton ball and the alcohol with his left.
"I've already cleaned it."
"Not well enough," he replied curtly, managing the balancing act of placing the cotton on top of the mouth of the bottle and pouring the contents into it. "This might hurt," he added, setting the bottle down before dabbing the cotton to the wound.
The sting bit at her skin but it was nothing she couldn't hide behind clenched teeth. What she could not hide however was the comfort she felt at that moment. Like he had forgiven her without her having to apologize. Like he had forgiven her and was hoping that she would forgive him.