Chapter Text
Derek's change came faster now, and maybe a bit easier—no vomiting this time. That didn't change the pain I felt at his own. Finally it was over, and he fell onto his side, panting, shaking, and shivering. Then he reached for my hand, holding it tight, and I entwined my fingers with his, shifting closer and using my free hand to brush sweaty hair from his face. His grip tightened, and I pulled him close, his head resting on my lap. The heavy breathing combated by the circles I traced on his back.
Eventually his breathing returned to what I would deem an acceptable pace, and he sat up to look at me. We sat there for a moment before he leaned in and our lips met. But they didn't just meet, they duelled. I could feel the urgency of his actions, a driving need for our bodies to recognise that the opposite was alive. That we were well.
Lips, we soon realized, were not enough. Hands needed to be involved. Derek's fingers traced over my ribcage, under my shirt and reaching my breast. I might have moaned. My own fingers were clinging to his hair, bringing him closer to me. They belonged in his hair. Derek shifted further over me, pinning me to the ground.
"Woah," a voice said, interrupting me mid arch and Derek mid moan. Simon stood in the entrance to our corner, a pile of fabric in his hands. "You really need to get dressed before you start that."
"And here I was with the understanding that less clothing was the desired way to go about it," Derek whispered in my ear.
I might have moaned, and he might have smiled.
"I'm not starting anything," Derek said. "That I don't mean to finish," he continued in my ear.
"Don't think I didn't hear that." He held out the stack in his hands. "Dr. Fellows dug up some hospital greens for you. Get dressed and then... whatever."
"We weren't—" I began.
"Have you still got my note?"
I nodded.
"Give it to him."
I wiggled a bit so I could reach into my back pocket and pulled out the folded page and handed it to Derek. He mumbled something about friction before getting up a bit to read it. When he was busy with it, Simon let the smile fall from his face as he studied his brother.
"Is he okay?" he mouthed.
I nodded and reached around Derek to grab the scrubs Simon was holding as he refolded the note. Since I was still trapped under his frame, I held out the shirt for him to put on, he slipped his arms and head through, and I pulled it down. But that was as far as I was going to go, so I stood up and went around him so he could put on his pants.
"We good?" Simon asked.
"Yeah." Derek lowered his voice.
A squeak of shoes as Simon turned to go. Derek called him back, grunting with effort as he rose, his bare feet padding over. A short, murmured conversation. Then the slap of Simon smacking Derek's back, and his footsteps retreated.
Then a hand on my waist, a light touch, tentative. I turned and Derek was right there, his face above mine, hands sliding around me as I tilted my face up and his lips gently grazed mine before—
"What the—?"
I jumped, Derek groaned. Tori stood there, staring at us, Simon behind her, grabbing her arm.
"I told you not to—" Simon began.
"Yeah, but you didn't say why. I sure didn't expect..." She shook her head. "Am I the last one to know everything around here?"