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Stiles had been to the nurse’s office so often that he’s struck a deal with her- she doesn’t report his various bully related injuries, and he doesn’t report the frequent smoke breaks she takes behind the big tree on the football field. So, when Stiles limps in after another beating, he isn’t prepared to see someone new behind the desk- a young guy, a young hot guy who is staring at Stiles with wide eyes. A lot of things run through Stiles’ mind (most of which equate to “I know I’m bleeding but can I lick your abs?”), but the first thing that comes out of his mouth is: “You aren’t Gertrude.”
The guy stares at him for a few minutes, blinking, before he replies. “No. I’m Derek. I’m… an intern. Med student.”
Stiles nods (and then winces) because he’d remembered seeing “INTERN” being written on Gertrude’s calendar I bright red letters this week (surrounded by a disturbing amount of smiley faces.) “Right, hi. I’m Stiles.”
“You’re also bleeding.” Derek huffs, suddenly beside Stiles, man handling him over to the cot in the corner and pushing him down onto it before going to rummage through a drawer. “How did this happen?”
“I fell.” Stiles lies. Derek stops rummaging and glares at him.
“Lying.” he says simply. “Try again.”
Stiles gapes for a moment. “I… assholes cornered me by some lockers. They pushed me and I took one to the face; it’s no big deal.” Happens all the time.
“Has this happened before?” Derek asks.
“No.”
“Lying.” Derek says again, and Stiles is really starting to hate this guy.
“I can take care of myself.” he huffs. Derek snorts.
“Not if you’re ending up here you can’t.” He stops rummaging, pulling out a bottle of disinfectant and some cotton swabs and
goes back over to Stiles. “Hold still.”
The disinfectant burns when Derek begins swabbing it across the cut above Stiles’ eye, and he flinches on instinct. Derek growls- like actually growls- and puts a hand on his shoulder, holding him down as he swiped at the wound. He has a look of determination in his eye, concentrating on the cut like it’s the most important thing in the world, and he’s a grown man Stiles barely knows, and he really shouldn’t look that adorable , but he was. “Your eyes are really green.” he blurts, and Derek abruptly stops scrubbing.
“I-I, um…” Derek clears his throat, ears going red. “Thank you?”
Stiles gives a small smile. “I, er, yeah. Sorry, I just say things sometimes without thinking. You were focusing really hard and I noticed your eyes and you looked cute and… I’m... I’m going to shut up now.”
Now both Stiles and Derek were blushing. Derek stood back up, moving away and tossing the cotton swab in the trash can before turning to rummage through the drawers again, this time coming up with a bandage. He tossed the wrapper in the garbage can and walked back over, putting a hand on Stiles’ should again as he put it over the cut.
“There.” he says, stepping away again. “Done.”
“Thanks.” Stiles says, hopping down from the cot.
“Just… try not to get into any more trouble.” Derek mutters, herding Stiles out the door.
Stiles calls “no promises” as he walks down the hall, but he does stay out of trouble, oddly enough. None of the people that usually bother him will even look him in the eye when he gets to school the next day, and they go out of their way to avoid him in the halls.
This reprieve lasts the entire time Derek’s there and then it’s back to business as usual, worse than before. Stiles stops going to the nurse’s office all together after that, and instead buy some makeup and starts learning how to cover it up on his own. It’s easier that way, albeit harder to blink.
Three weeks after Derek’s interning stint, Gertrude’s smoking spot is discovered and she’s fired (which makes her happier than any person should be when receiving that kind of news) and Stiles is confronted with a familiar face while he’s attempting to mask a black eye in the bathroom.
“What the hell?” Derek hisses, and Stiles nearly drops the cover-up stick down the sink.
“Derek! Hi!” he says, whirling around to face the scowling man. “You’re Gertrude’s replacement, then?”
“Temporarily.” Derek’s voice is still low and dangerous. “What the hell happened, Stiles?”
“It’s nothi-” “Don’t even, Stiles.” Derek growls. “I fucking toldthem to leave you alone, dammit!”
“You what?” Stiles blinks, incredulous. “How did you even-”
“It doesn’t matter.” Derek says hastily, and Stiles’ eyes narrow.
“Yes, it does. How did you even know who was doing it; are you, like, stalking me? Because, if you are, you need to back the hell of because my dad is the sheriff and I will not hesitate to-”
“I’m not stalking you!” Derek cries, exasperated. “I could smellthem on you!”
“… You could what?” Stiles squeaks.
“Smell them.” Derek repeats slowly. “I’m… it’s hard to explain, but I have stronger senses than most people. I can smell individual scents of people, and it wasn’t all that hard to track down the idiots that hurt you. I told them to stop.”
Stiles is silent for a while, because, wow. Derek barely even knows him and he stuck up for him. “Uh… thanks?” he finally says. “But, next time, maybe don’t? They only stopped until you left, and then it kind of… escalated. So I started dealing with it on my own.”
“By covering it up?” Derek snorts. “That isn’t dealing with it, Stiles.”
“It’s how I deal with it.” Stiles argues. “I can’t tell anyone- you see what happens when I try and go to a teacher or something, if I tell my dad he’d probably arrest them for assault and battery or something, and if I fight back I’d just be bringing myself down with them. It’s not really worth it so I just… deal.”
Now Derek has fallen silent, standing and staring at Stiles. “… Do you have a piece of paper?” he asks suddenly, and Stiles blinks.
“Um, sure?” he rummages through his bag for a minute and hands a piece of paper to Derek, who pulls a pen out of the pocket of his scrub shirt and quickly scribbles something on in before handing it back.
“It’s my phone number.” he explains when Stiles gives him a bewildered look. “When this happens, call me instead of covering it up. I won’t say anything unless it gets really bad, but, I will patch you up best I can.”
Stiles nods and shoves the paper into his pocket. “Right, will do.”
Derek nods at the promise and leaves, leaving Stiles to stare at his reflection and wonder what has become of his life.
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He never has to call Derek. Not that he isn’t still being knocked around on a daily basis- he is, but when he pulls his phone out to call Derek, he’s already there, first aid kit in hand. Jokingly, Stiles accuses him of being a stalker again, and Derek glares at him. “I just have a sixth sense when it comes to these things- or these things when it comes to you, at least.”
“Jesus,” Stiles breathes. “Are you some kind of superhero? Superhuman senses plus a Stiles-sense.”
“A superhero.” Derek says, half-smiling. “Something like that.”
“Cool.” Stiles crows, and Derek actually laughs.
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It isn’t long before they’re hanging out outside of school and Stiles’ visits, and Stiles learns that Derek’s actually a pretty cool guy. He has a huge family, but is closest to his sisters- Laura, his older sister, a writer (“and a pain in the ass.” Derek snorts) and Cora, who actually goes to school with Stiles. (She stares at him in the hallway now. It’s really a little creepy.) Derek’s a bit obsessed with basketball, and the look he gets with he’s ranting about stats and plays and god knows what else (because, honestly, Stiles is really just watching his mouth at this point. (It’s a kissable mouth.) is adorable.
(Stiles has a tiny crush.
Okay, not so tiny.)
Derek even comes to a few lacrosse games, even though Stiles is rarely ever even on the field. His dad loves Derek, even invites him over for dinner a few times, which Derek respectfully declines in favor of school work.
Things are going pretty fine, Stiles thinks, until he passes out in the middle of a history test. He wakes up with a panicked looming Derek looming over him, panic turning to relief when he notices Stiles’ eyes opening. “Thank god,” he breathes, throwing his arms around Stiles’ neck. “What happened?”
“Wha-oh.” Stiles is still a bit out of it, focused more now on Derek hugging him then anything else. “I.. Adderall withdrawal, I think. I’ve been taking more than I need to for the past few weeks to study for this test, and I stopped suddenly because I didn’t need it anymore, so-”
Derek pulls back, looking angry now. “You’ve been overdosing?” he hisses, and there’s a flash of blue in his eye that Stiles vaguely registers as never having been there before. “That’s fucking dangerous, Stiles!”
“I know, I know.” Stiles resists the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s no big deal, really.”
“You could have died!” Derek cries, and Stiles is pretty sure he’s exaggerating, but doesn’t say anything. It probably wouldn’t go over well. “Weeks, Stiles! Weeks!”
“I’ve done it before!” Stiles protest, and Derek slams a hand down on the counter.
“I don’t fucking care what you’ve done before, you aren’t doing it again!”
“You don’t get to-” Stile begins, but suddenly Derek is kissing him and oh. Stiles feels like he’s going to pass out again, so he fists his hands into the Derek’s scrub shirt and kisses back best he can, but Stiles has no idea how these things go outside of television and the making out he’s seen in the halls, so they end up bumping teeth and noses a few times (not that either of them care.)
Derek pulls away, hair mussed and cheeks bright red, and all Stiles can say is “Oh.”
“I… care about you. A lot.” Derek says slowly, not looking Stiles in the eye and still blushing like someone who’d been caught with their hand down their pants. “And it would kill me if you died. So, please, don’t scare me like that again.”
“I will do whatever you ask if we can do that again.” Stiles says breathlessly, and Derek glances at him and half-smiles.
“Repeatedly.” he agrees, and Stiles silently thanks Gertrude and her smoking habits.