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After the fight was over, after the bad guy was defeated and they all survived, everyone was quick to leave. No one had been seriously hurt, and everyone itched to take care of their own injuries in private.
Which was something Stiles would never stand for when it came to Derek.
Derek had been thrown around the most and while it usually wasn’t that big of a deal, this time they were in an abandoned building and Derek’s skin was torn up almost everywhere.
He was bloody from head to toe, even though Stiles was pretty sure most of the wounds were already healed, but he couldn’t stand the sight.
“Come on, big guy,” he said and gently steered Derek towards his jeep, who fell into step besides him before he realized what was happening, just like he always did.
“I don’t need your help,” he said, eyes narrowed and Stiles was reminded of the beginnings of their friendship, where Derek constantly looked at him like that and pushed him into walls on top of that.
He was glad those days were behind them.
“I know that,” Stiles reassured him and opened the passenger door for him.
They were pros at this kind of dance by now and Stiles wouldn’t be deterred.
Derek raised one eyebrow and Stiles was fluent enough in that particular language to know that it meant ‘Do you now? Because your actions tell me you don’t.’.
Derek was very expressive with his eyebrows.
“There is a lot of blood,” Stiles said and Derek looked down at himself.
He was indeed covered in blood, his shirt hanging in tatters, but Stiles was more worried about the blood on his face. Derek had taken a slide over the concrete floor face first and his face looked like it.
“It’s just blood,” Derek said but got into the car nonetheless, knowing that arguing with Stiles about this would just prolong the inevitable.
Stiles suspected he usually only did it because it was easier than running home, but he wasn’t about to complain about his reasons as long as he got to take care of Derek.
“Okay, let me just drive you home then,” Stiles gave back, and going by the eyeroll he got from Derek he knew exactly that it wouldn’t be just that at all.
He knew Stiles too well by now after all, not to mention that Derek got hurt often enough that they had kind of a routine down.
They drove to the loft in silence and when Derek got out of the jeep Stiles followed him without saying a word.
Derek didn’t even protest this time.
“Go into the bathroom,” he Stiles and pointed at the door.
“Stiles,” Derek started but Stiles didn’t let him finish.
“I’ll just get a washcloth, be back in a sec.”
He rushed off to Derek’s bedroom, rummaging through the drawers for a washcloth before he hurried back into the bathroom.
Derek was sitting on the toilet, shirt already discarded, but he had made no move to clean himself up and Stiles repressed a fond smile.
Derek might be all grumpy when someone cared about him, but he secretly liked it and Stiles knew.
“It’s a lot of blood,” Stiles repeated and went over to the sink to wet the washcloth before he stood before Derek, who allowed him to step between his legs.
“It’s just blood,” Derek gave back and rolled his eyes.
“Someone still has to clean it up,” Stiles said and Derek sighed.
“I can do it myself.”
And this was always the most important part.
Derek could do it himself, but the thing was, he didn’t really want to. He wanted someone to be there for him and do it for him, and it had taken Stiles a few weeks to realize that, but by now they had this down to an art form.
Derek denies he needs help, Stiles insists, Derek says he can do it alone and gets all tense before Stiles tells him he wants to, Derek gives in like they both knew he would and they both are happier for it.
It still hurt something in Stiles to see Derek tense up after he said he can do it himself, like he still believed that Stiles would just walk out and leave him to his own devices, but he didn’t let him wait for long.
“Let me do this for you,” Stiles whispered, like he had so many times before, and Derek relaxed, finally allowing Stiles to clean him up.
He started with his face, carefully running the washcloth over his cheek, cleaning off all the blood, to reveal already healed flesh underneath.
“There was nothing to worry about,” Derek mumbled, but nuzzled into the hand Stiles still had on his other cheek.
“Maybe I like to worry about you,” Stiles gave back, and this too, was routine for them.
“Maybe I like letting you take care of me,” Derek said and Stiles stopped in his motions.
This wasn’t part of their routine.
He swallowed once and then smiled at Derek, who was looking at him like he couldn’t care less about Stiles reaction, but who also got all tense under his hands as well and Stiles knew better than to think Derek didn’t care.
“Maybe I like taking care of you,” he softly said and leaned down to press a kiss to the cheek he had cleaned of blood not even a minute ago.
Derek leaned into the press of his lips and hummed and Stiles was reluctant to pull away so instead he moved forward so that they could press their cheeks together and scent mark the other.
Derek’s hand came up to rest on Stiles’ waist but when he tried to pull him closer, Stiles moved away.
“You’re still disgusting,” he told Derek and got to work again. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can cuddle,” he decided and Derek didn’t even protest.
At this point it would probably be easier if Derek took a shower, but they both enjoyed this too much to mention it.
Stiles had to clean the washcloth several times before he deemed Derek clean enough and Derek didn’t waste any time.
As soon as Stiles decided that he was done and Derek was as clean as he would get him, Derek got up and started to push Stiles into the direction of his bedroom.
“Alright, alright,” Stiles laughed and happily went along with the hand on his hips, steering him forward.
Derek barely gave Stiles time to get rid of his shoes before he pushed him onto the bed.
Stiles would complain if he wasn’t making grabby hands at Derek, demanding that he join him immediately and Derek didn’t let him wait.
He crawled under the covers next to Stiles and pulled him close to his chest, and Stiles happily pressed his face into his neck.
“Wanted to do that for a long time,” he mumbled and pressed a kiss to Derek’s throat.
“I thought about this almost since the first time I saw you,” Derek admitted and his arm around Stiles’ middle tightened.
Stiles would ask why it took him so long to do this then, but he knew. There was too much history for Derek, too much bad things happened to him and Stiles had to admit that he hadn’t been ready either.
So instead of asking uncomfortable questions he already knew the answers to he snuggled closer and slung an arm around Derek.
They had steadily worked up to this and Stiles thought it was all the better for it. Going by the way Derek was nuzzling his hair, he would agree but Stiles was too comfortable and content to really check.
He decided that talking could wait until breakfast.