Chapter Text
You know, I feel like I’m the type to roll with the punches a lot. Just live my life and try my best. But you know what’s really hard? Listening to my best friend, practically my brother, hang up on me when I need him. I thought after the pool incident that he would have maybe learned that if I call over a text? It’s serious, and I need help.
But no, he’s too busy screwing Allison. So I limp through the preserve to where I left the Jeep. I had come out here to just enjoy a walk, having heard nothing about a new threat.
But of course, there was one. So I should just assume there is always something lurking. And of course, it was a freaking witch, who was thankfully alone, but they are not easy to deal with alone.
It took me a bit, but I was forced to fight her after Scott hung up on me. I had started wearing a dagger strapped to my thigh on walks like these, just in case, and boy was I happy for it.
I managed to get the drop on her after she destroyed my leg with a spell and stabbed her in the heart. I was not dying out here tonight. No sir.
Back to the present, I finally find my Jeep and crawl in. I cry out as it jostles my leg. I look down to inspect it finally and see it cut open in various spots. So that’s why my head is fuzzy.
But with my leg like this, I can’t go home. I can’t remember if dad is on shift tonight, and I can’t be bothered to find out. I sigh and start up the Jeep. I drive over to where I know Derek purchased a loft.
I crawl out of the Jeep when I get there and hobble my way in. In the elevator, I lean against the wall, feeling my head sway. I get to the top floor and struggle to open the gate on the elevator. Before I can make it out, an arm wraps around me, pulling me further in.
“What the hell happened, Stiles?” Derek growls, moving me over to a stool. I whine when he sets me down, and I see him flinch.
“Witch.” I grit my teeth. He rushes off, and I hear clattering in the direction he went.
“Why didn’t Scott help you?” He says when he comes back with a bowl of water and a cloth. He helps me remove my pants and starts cleaning the cuts.
“Tried. To call.” I yelp when he touches a particularly deep one. “Hung up.”
“Stiles, I don’t have anything here.” Derek looks me in the eye, I can see a slight panic.
“Jeep. Under the passenger seat.” Derek quickly reaches into the pocket of my discarded jeans, then rushes out of the building.
I sit there and try to keep focused on something to stay awake. I jolt when the hands are back. This time I feel the pain fade away. I look down and see the black lines on Derek’s arm.
“Thanks,” I whisper. “Now, where’s the kit?”
Derek nods to the counter beside us, eyes not leaving my leg. I sigh and reach over, getting the hydrogen peroxide.
“Derek, I need you to do this for me.” He grits his teeth and uses the hydrogen peroxide to clean out my cuts. I cry out, Derek no longer able to take my pain.
“Just a bit longer.” I hear him say. I shake my head and thread a needle for him.
“You need to stitch the big one.” His eyes widen as I hold the needle out for him.
“No, I can’t.”
“Fine.” I grit out.
I reach down to my thigh and squeeze both sides of the cut together. I take a breath and push the needle through. I hold in a sob the best I can, feeling relief when I realize the pain is being pulled again. I focus on stitching myself together, grateful that Derek is pulling my pain enough for me to do this.
I sob out when I’m done, happy for it to be over. Derek bandages up my leg then passes me the bottle of Tylenol.
“Do you have anything stronger?” He whispers.
I shake my head and pop out 3 pills. He darts off and grabs me a glass of water, bringing it back so I can take the meds. I pop them in my mouth and swallow them down with the water. I feel a little dizzy again and hand the glass back to Derek, who puts it on the counter beside us.
Derek leans down and scoops me up into his arms. I yelp and grab onto him. He brings me over to the couch and sits me on it before going back to clean everything up.
“You, by chance, have some pants I could borrow? It’s cold.” I awkwardly say, shifting on the couch. I hiss when it pulls on my leg.
“Stay still.” Is all he says as he disappears upstairs. I look around for a blanket at least but find nothing. Actually, there’s barely anything here. Just a bed in the middle of the floor, a couch, a desk, and some lamps.
Derek pops up out of nowhere and kneels before me, helping my legs through some sweatpants. I try not to blush as he helps me pull the pants on. Once that’s done, he gestures to my shirts.
“Oh, no. That’s okay. They weren’t destroyed.” I try to wave him off.
He flashes red eyes at me and growls. Which is not fair. I find that too hot to say no to. And I’m starting to think he knows it. The ass.
I strip my shirts off and feel it pull at my shoulder. I whimper, wondering how I hurt it. Derek leans me forward after I get my shirts off and looks at my shoulder. He pokes it a few times, which gains a few whimpers from me.
“Pulled muscle,” he says, then pokes it once more. I bat his hand away with a glare. “And bruising.”
He pulls a sweater over my head now, easing my arms through the sleeves. And let me tell you, it's the softest thing of life. Once he’s done, he picks me up again. I groan and tilt my head back. He doesn’t need to show off his strength. I already get enough awkward boners around him.
He sets me down on the bed this time, propping my leg up with a pillow. I watch him walk off again, not saying a word about anything. When he comes back, I see my phone in his hand.
“Thanks,” I say when he passes it to me.
“Text your dad. You’re not leaving tonight.” I roll my eyes at him.
“And what do I say, huh?”
“Figure it out.” Ah yes, so eloquent.
Me: Hey, daddio, won’t be home tonight. Staying over at Derek's for some bonding time.
I drop my phone beside me and turn to look around the place. And boy is it bare. I feel my phone vibrate and look down to see my dad respond.
Pops: Bonding time? Don’t overstay your welcome.
I snort and type a little aggressively back.
Me: How dare you! I’m a delight! And yeah, figured he needs some happy friends and not the broody type.
I slap my phone back down beside me, looking around to see where Derek went. I hear some noise coming from upstairs and figure that’s where his room is. But, wait, if his room is up there, why is this random ass bed on the floor.
I turn when I hear feet coming down the stairs and see Derek has changed into a pair of sweats and nothing else. Kill me now. How will I survive when the rest of my blood has gone to my dick?
“So, you got attacked by a witch, and when you called Scott, he hung up?” He asks as he comes over to the bed.
“Yupp.” I pop the ‘p’ feeling myself get irritated with Scott again.
My eyes widen when I watch Derek sit down on the bed. Oh lord, am I going to share a bed with him?
“What was so important that he ignored you?” He asks, laying on his side to face me, propping himself up into his elbow.
“Allison,” I say, trying to keep my cool. He scowls and mutters under his breath, something about Scott being useless.
“Why come to me?”
“Because I trust you.” I look him right in the eye. Thanks to that, I see his eyes widen, clearly not expecting that.
“Why?” He whispers.
“Because you’ve been there for me since the beginning. When I got hurt, who came to check up on me in the middle of the night?” I ask him. “Not Scott.”
“Who makes sure when our groups team-up that I am at a safe distance, or that if I am about to be impaled, gets me out of there?” I can see his ears slowly turning red. “Again, not Scott.”
“I also happen to know a certain werewolf who comes into my room when I’m in the middle of a research binge and makes sure I am eating and have something other than Adderall and coffee.”
Derek looks away now, cheeks turning pink. I reach my hand over and run the back of my fingers along his cheek.
“I might have been best friends with Scott for years, but you’re the one who takes care of me. Who keeps my spastic brain focused and keeps my dumb ideas in check.” I chuckle, “At least when it matters, don’t think I don’t notice you letting me ramble on when there isn’t a threat.”
“Everyone tells you to be quiet all the time,” his voice is still a whisper. “But you always look so hurt, even when the information is mostly useful.”
“Mostly? Derek, everything I say is useful.” I scoff, putting my hand over my heart in fake outrage.
“I don’t think needing to know the entire plot of Star Wars is useful.” Derek snorts.
“Well, don’t come crying to me when I manage to finish making a life-size death star.” I grinned cheekily up at him.
“I can see you being Darth Vader.” He chuckles. “Back to the point, I used your idea of adding paprika to my potato salad the last time the pack was here. They loved it.”
“Shit, when was I giving my food secrets away?” I ask, trying to think back to when I went on a rant about food.
“You went off after finding out your dad got take-out from the diner.”
I scrunch my eyebrows together. It happens so often. But when was Derek there? I finally remember when and I look at Derek in awe.
“That was months ago.” Derek just shrugs, getting back up out of bed.
“Where are you goin?” I ask, starting to feel a bit tired.
“To sleep on the bed upstairs.” He makes his way to the stairs again. I whine, watching him pause and look back at me with an adorably confused expression.
“Come back,” I made grabby hands at him. Derek just raises an eyebrow at me, turning to face me and crossing his arms.
“Stiles, you need to sleep.” He gruffs out but sounds a little fond.
“But I need my Derbear!”
“Your ‘Derbear’?” He asks incredulously.
“Yeah, my Derek Teddy Bear.” I grin up at him. He rolls his eyes but gives me a fond smile, crawling back into bed with me.
“Try to keep your leg elevated all night.” He says.
I give him a mischievous look, rolling onto my side and gently put my leg over his. He looks down at my leg, then back up to my face.
“You said to keep my leg elevated.” I tease. He rolls his eyes and lays his hand on my upper thigh, away from the wounds.
“Pain in the ass.” He mutters but pulls me closer.
I sigh and snuggle into his arms. He lets out a rumble. For a second, I think he is growling at me. So I go to pull back, but he tightens his arms around me, keeping up the rumbling.
“Are you purring?” I ask, bewildered.
“Not purring.” He huffs.
“Then what would you call it?” I tease.
“A soothing growl.” He snarks back. I snicker, burrowing into his arms more.
“Purring.” I tease again.
“Go to sleep, Stiles.” He chuckles.
I wake the following day to him tracing patterns on my back. I sigh and nuzzle into his neck.
“How does your leg feel?” He mumbles.
“Sore. Don’t really want to move it.” My voice is raspy from sleep. He hums, continuing to trace patterns.
“Is that because it hurts or because you're a koala?”
“Can I say both?”
“Depends. Do you want food this morning?”
“How dare you make me choose. So evil.” I groan when he slowly moves my leg off him and leaves the bed.
“You need food.” He said
“Actually, what I need is to pee.” I grouch, slowly getting up from the bed.
“Need help?” Derek asks, looking like he wants to move back to my side.
“Nah, go make me food, slave.” I snicker as I hobble over to the bathroom.
“Not your slave!” I hear him call out as I reach the bathroom.
“Keep telling yourself that.” I laugh harder, knowing he can still hear me.
I look around at the bare bathroom and frown. This man needs some homey things. Ordinary things, not this bare-bones stuff. I huff and do my business, even washing my face afterwards to clean up a bit. God, I want a shower though, I feel gross still after last night.
I walk out and see Derek at the stove, cooking what smells like eggs and bacon. I hobble over and sit on the stool from last night, watching him over the counter.
“So, Derbear.” I start. Derek huffs and gives me a look.
“I’m not a teddy bear.” Then goes back to cooking.
“Lies,” I tease. “Anywho, after breakfast, I need to head home.”
For a moment, his face contorts into a look I haven’t seen before but sets back into his usual scowl. Then, he just nods his head and moves the food onto plates. He brings it over to me and sits across from me, eating in silence. It doesn’t bug me because practically everything Derek does is silent.
Once I’m done, I go to change into my clothes then realize my jeans are shredded. I glare at them in disdain.
“Just wear my clothes home. I don’t mind you taking them.” Derek chimed in, watching me in amusement.
“Well, you said it!” I grin, throwing my clothes in a bag to deal with later.
I left not too long after, Derek making sure I got to the Jeep without issues. Finally, I make it home and limp my way to my room, wondering how to convince dad that I’m fine and not hurt. But, instead, I chose to forget it for now and get the stupid assignment done that's due in three weeks. I might be trying to get it done early, but with ADHD and caffeine mixed with Adderall, I’ve learned to get shit done fast, or I will not have time to edit to make sure I didn’t type something I shouldn’t.
It’s a week later when I can walk more without limping, that I head over to the hardware store needing to replace the lock on my window. Scott broke it a while ago, and I never got around to fixing it.
I scowl, thinking about him. I stopped talking to him last week after this situation came up, and he hasn’t even noticed. The prick.
I’m walking to check out when I see these cute succulents on sale. All I can think about is Derek’s loft. I grin and pick out a few. Bringing them with me to the checkout. When I leave, I decide to drop them off at Derek’s place before going home.
Grinning when I see his car gone, I go as fast as I can up to the loft, switching to the key that Derek gave me for ‘emergencies.’ This is an emergency. Derek deserves nice things.
I place one of them on the counter by the sink, one in the bathroom, and the biggest one on his table. Then, once I am done, I just grin and leave, going back home.
A few days later, I was bored and roaming through Walmart when I saw the softest-looking light gray throw blanket, not hesitating to put it into my cart. I think about the blue couch he has in there and decide to look at pillows as well.
I take them home and wash them, trying to get the scents out of them. Once they are done, I throw them on my bed and lay on top of them, hoping that whatever is left will be drowned out by my scent. Then I sneak over to Derek’s again, placing them all on the couch. When I go to leave, I see the succulents in the spots I left them.
This somehow becomes a regular thing every time I am out now. Me using the money I get from working part-time for the police, mostly filing and helping with paperwork, to decorate Derek’s loft more.
I don’t actually know if he hates it. I haven’t really talked to him since the night he popped by and gave me a key. If he really cared though, he would probably say something. But his living room and kitchen were looking more lived in.