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The latest group of ugly that rolled into Beacon Hills over the weekend was an ogre. An ogre. And here was Stiles, thinking her life couldn’t get any weirder. As it turns out, life doesn’t get much weirder than ogres who throw your boyfriend into trees.
Yes, Derek Hale is still a magnet for trouble and, this time, trouble is a nine foot tall beast who throws werewolves around like rag dolls.
Derek took a couple giant ogre punches to the head so, with Scott’s help, Stiles took him home and got him cleaned up and in bed. Oddly enough, Derek makes a pretty good patient when he’s unconscious. There’s not protesting, no insisting that he’s perfectly fine, just blessed silence.
Stiles hates it.
It’s been seven whole hours with little response besides a pained groan when Scott had dropped Derek a little too hard onto the bed. They’re coming up on hour eight when Derek finally opens his eyes and moans.
"Derek!" Stiles is sitting at his side in an instant - she’d only been three feet away - and touching the side of his head where a greenish-blue bruise is swelling his cheek. "Oh my God, finally. I’d started to think I was gonna have a comatose boyfriend for the rest of my life."
Derek squints up at her, throat working a little before he says, “Loud.”
"What? Oh!" Stiles drops her voice to a whisper. "Too loud? I’m sorry."
Derek smiles slightly and then groans, eyes squeezing shut.
"Does that hurt?" He opens one eye to glare and she takes that as a yes. "Hang on." She jumps up and hurries into the kitchen, rustling around for a minute or so before she finds an ice pack and brings it over to press to the side of Derek’s head.
"Better?" she asks and Derek sighs, nodding slightly. "Good."
There’s silence for a second before Stiles jabs her finger into Derek’s side. He jerks and opens his eyes, staring up at her in confused betrayal. “What the hell was that for?” he accuses.
"Oh, did that hurt? You know what else hurts? Thinking your dumb ass was dead, Derek! That hurts." Derek at least has the good grace to look guilty. "Don’t you do that again. I mean it."
They both know Derek can’t promise that, but he nods and reaches down to thread his fingers through Stiles’ and that’s good enough for now.