Chapter Text
"No," Derek says numbly when he wakes up a few hours later at the hospital. "I don't believe you."
"Better believe it, little bro," Laura says with a smile from beside his hospital bed. "That broken rib - well, now healed - is proof enough. Your boyfriend was pretty desperate to save you."
Stiles saved his life. And Derek doesn't remember any of it. He doesn't remember a good chunk of what happened at the house. He hides his face in his pillow, wishing he could just sink into them and disappear. "He's not my boyfriend," he mutters miserably, voice muffled. Laura laughs before reaching over to run her hand through his hair.
"Well, he's missing out on a great guy," she says softly. "Thanks for coming back for me, Derek."
Derek looks at her, shrugging. "You would've done the same for me."
Laura grins, ruffling his hair. "You big damn hero. Saving your big sis and future husband."
They engage in a brief nudge battle to break up all the mushiness before it's stopped when they hear the familiar sound of sharp clicks down the hall, followed by slower heavier footsteps. Their mother, Talia, enters the room, her lips drawn taut, accentuating the sharpness of her features. Her eyes fall upon Derek, narrowing slightly before she strides up to his bedside, long hair flying behind her, and hits him across in the head. Derek just accepts it, rubbing his head with a slight frown, already knowing what it's for, and then preparing for -
His face, smushed in his mother's neck. Even under all the smoke, he can still smell her light flowery scent. "You had me worried sick," his mother snaps, sounding suspiciously tearful as she embraces him tightly. Derek mutters a "sorry, Mom", rubbing her back reassuringly as he makes eye contact with his father, Alex, the moment he makes it to the room, who wisely moves to gently pull her off before she suffocates Derek. "Those idiots," she huffs angrily, wiping her eyes, "they should've let me go in -"
"Put the claws away, Mom, they're poking through your bandages," Laura says mildly.
" - I would've gotten to you two faster. But," she casts a look at Derek, "I suppose that firefighter of yours did the job."
"Not mine," Derek protests weakly, but no one pays him any mind.
"We have to invite him to dinner one of these days," she determines as she pulls out her phone, which has been beeping nonstop.
"Speaking of that firefighter," his father pipes up, "is he the one that Laura's been telling us about?"
"Yup!" Laura answers because clearly, Derek isn't even a part of this conversation. "He even saved Derek back by giving him CPR."
"CPR?" his father repeats, a grin on his face.
"CPR," Laura affirms, sharing a knowing look with him. "Derek was also shirtless during all this, by the way."
Alex nods approvingly at Derek, who wishes he could move far, far away from these people. And in his defense, he happened to be working out when the fire started. Contrary to popular belief, he purposefully didn't take off his shirt when he heard that the fire department was coming.
Seriously, he didn't.
"Unfortunately," his mother speaks up, "you won't be able to see him for a while."
To his surprise, his father and Laura react. "What do you mean he can't see him?" Laura demands like she's personally offended by this apparent injustice inflicted upon Derek.
"You just invited him to dinner!" His father protests.
"The boy has seen the injuries Derek sustained," she says, scowling at them for their dramatics. "It'll raise questions if he sees him, or any one of us," she gestures at her own bandaged arms, "already healed. That includes the others who were near the wolfsbane. We can't exactly tell the doctors that all they need to do is rub wolfsbane ash into their burns. I've already started to arrange for everyone to be cared for at their homes."
"So it really was a hunter, huh?" Laura says, a little disheartened. The hunter-werewolf relations had been doing so well lately. Talia's mood seems to sour at the mention of a hunter.
"Argent's been dodging my calls," she raises her phone to her ear. "We'll see if he can dodge a claw to the throat," she growls as she stalks out of the room.
Alex lets out a low whistle as he slides into Talia's spot beside Derek. "I should probably send Chris a text about that," he says diplomatically, bending over to press his lips on Derek's head before pulling out his own phone. "I'm glad you're okay, son. Sorry I gotta run already, you know how your mother gets. We'll talk about your fireman later!"
"He's not - why do I bother," Derek sighs as his father steps out.
"Cheer up, Der," he looks to Laura, expecting some actual cheering up, "you've been pining for Stiles for nearly eight months, I'm sure another month won't be too bad."
"I regret saving you now," Derek mutters, to which Laura gasps and starts to poke his stomach mercilessly. The nurse kicks her out for raising his heart rate too high.
-
Danny was the one who had come across Stiles and Derek and quickly called for a bus for the both of them. Derek was priority, so his sister had gone with him, and Stiles got to go with Danny and Finstock, who gave him an earful about procedure and such a rookie mistake and we are like FAMILY stilinski all the way to the hospital. Luckily, Mrs. McCall saves him, shooing a very emotional Finstock away and dragging Stiles to the ER.
"I called Scott when I heard about the fire. What?" Mrs. McCall says when Stiles makes a face at her. "He told me to call every time there's a big fire. He'll probably be here in an hour."
"Isn't he in San Diego?"
She gives him a look. "Again, you, in the hospital. He'll be here in an hour." Sucking in air through her teeth, she grimaces. "You sure this doesn't hurt?" She asks as she gingerly pulls the splinters out of his head.
"Well, it hurts now," Stiles grunts. Whatever magical mojo happened when Derek touched him, it ain't happening now.
She clicks her tongue, dabbing the injury with some cotton. "I swear, no matter what you do, you'll always find a way to end up in the hospital. You could've become a pillow salesman and I would've still seen you sitting here with some obscure injury."
"No one is safe from carpal tunnel, Ms. McCall," he says somberly. She rolls her eyes at him and smacks a bandage on his head, telling him that Scott will probably be at his bedside to wake him up every hour. Stiles doesn't doubt it.
He considers maybe taking a nap on the cot, but then he sees - "Lydia!" He calls. She ignores him, continuing to walk. Quickly hopping off the bed - whoa, not a good idea, he thinks as his head spins a little - , he catches up. "Hey, Lydia!"
Lydia, the town's arson investigator, among other things, doesn't stop walking, only giving Stiles a side-long glance in acknowledgement.
"So, it really was arson?" He asks. She scoffs.
"Of course it was. Even Greenberg could tell it was arson."
"Any leads who did it?"
She stops, whipping around to face him. "What, you expect me to do your father's job too?" Upon seeing Stiles' sad beseeching eyes, she sighs exasperatedly. She's used to this already, Stiles asking about arson investigations. It's the closest thing to police work he can get as a firefighter. She always told him that he would come to regret stealing Jackson's Porsche one day. "No leads yet, it's still early, but there was wolfsbane all around the house, particularly the bedrooms and the living room. And I know it wasn't some weird potpourri the Hales use because I found a part of a device typically used for biological attacks. I'm guessing they loaded it with wolfsbane powder."
Stiles stares incredulously at her. "Are you saying whoever set the fire thinks the Hales are werewolves?"
She shrugs. "Looks like it. Wouldn't put it past them either. Talia Hale looked like she was ready to rip out the throat of whoever set the fire when I was telling her about all this. But again, not my job to investigate. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to turn in my report and then head to my other job to prove that I am right." With that, she moves on, leaving Stiles alone in the hallway with that little theory.
Or, not so alone.
"Quite capable, that Ms. Martin," he hears a voice call behind him. He turns to see the woman he saw at the house, Derek's mother, over at the nurse's station.
"Uh, y-yeah," he stumbles with his words because she's beautiful and also really intimidating, even though she's just signing some forms, "most of these jobs are more like hobbies to her." Lydia mostly just takes over jobs of people she thinks are incompetent. It's really the only reason she hasn't taken his father's.
Mrs. Hale hums. Stiles quickly moves forward, holding out a hand to her. "Uh, sorry, I'm -"
"Stiles," she finishes, setting down the pen to grip his hand firmly. Stiles tries not to wince and shrink back too much under her sharp gaze. It's like she's looking into his soul and not in that zen sort of way, but in the very uncomfortable "if I see a shred of ill intention, I will end you" way. "You saved my son's life," she finally says, sincerity clear in her voice. "I don't know how I could ever thank you."
"I was just doing my job, Mrs. Hale," he replies bashfully, adding, "And repaying a debt of my own. Derek dragged me out of the house first."
Her eyes narrow. "So, you're the reason he ended up in the hospital in the first place."
Oh god, this is a ruse, she's going to kill me. "I - no - uh -"
She lets out a laugh, waving her hand. "I'm just pulling your leg. I'm glad the man who saved my son is okay too."
Stiles just laughs nervously, afraid to respond.
"Well," she glances at her watch, "it was a pleasure to meet you, Stiles, but I have quite a few things to sort out, as you probably know. I'm sorry to say that my son has been discharged to be cared for at home, so I don't know if you had wanted to see him -"
His heart drops. "Oh, uh, it's fine. He's...okay, right?"
"He's recovering well. He should be all healed within a month or so." She smiles warmly at him, patting him on the shoulder as she passes him. "I hope to see more of you, Stiles," she says significantly, eyes twinkling.
Stiles listens to her footsteps tap away, feeling a little light-headed.
"There were just...a lot of things in that conversation," he mutters to himself as he slowly walks back to -
He doesn't know where he's going. Home?
He receives a text. STILES ARE YOU OK IM AT YOUR APT I HAVE A TIMER AND FOOD
Right. He has a concussion. Man, this no pain thing is really throwing him off his game.