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Stiles shifted uneasily. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick up like someone was watching him. It was a sensation he was becoming more used to, which wasn’t a settling realization. It distracted him from the group in front of him talking. They were at the lacrosse field outside the school, Derek and Braeden making noises about Training and Assassins and Be Prepared. He’d honestly tuned them out a little bit. He had enough blood on his hands thanks to the nogitsune and didn’t really want any more.
Derek and Braeden seemed to be pretty chummy, he noted with no small amount of disgruntlement. He didn’t want to think about why too closely.
He sat up a bit straighter when Derek frowned at him sharply.
“Did you hear anything I just said, Stiles?” He sounded exasperated. Stiles grinned sheepishly. Derek gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “Weapons of choice.”
“Got my bat.” He nodded and hefted it up to show him. “I thought about making one out of mountain ash too. Could be pretty badass, right?” Scott grinned back at him and nodded along. Derek still looked unimpressed.
“And when a hunter shoots you from over here, the mountain ash bat won’t do you any good.”
“So, I’ll steal one of dad’s bulletproof vests.” He shrugged a shoulder. He was aware that he was being an ass, but it was almost worth it to watch Lydia and Braeden make irritated faces. He gave them a winning smile.
“You dad is the sheriff.” Lydia pursed her lips at him. “How are you not comfortable around guns?”
“I never said I wasn’t. I just like my bat.” It wasn’t as easy to murder someone on accident with a bat. He’d have to mean it. Like, really mean it. He was deceptively muscular but human bodies didn’t crush that easily. There was always the risk of brain damage but Stiles could focus on taking out the legs. He also was less likely to shoot himself in the foot with a baseball bat. Semantics.
“We’ll see how comfortable you are soon.” Braeden replied and shared—gross—a look with Derek. He didn’t want to know. Something deep in his chest flared with jealousy. No. Anger. Definitely anger there. He opened his mouth to reply with something that would have no doubt been amazing and sarcastic when everything erupted into chaos.
Everything was rapid movement. Braeden pulled her gun and started shooting but it didn’t slow them down quickly enough. Lydia screamed, not a fully banshee sound, but enough that some of them winced and darted away from her for easier targets. Scott was tackled and was rolling around on the ground grappling with two wendigos, both their teeth bared and a mass of snarling. Stiles caught one charging at him with a yell and a sharp swing, taking out the knee caps in a disgusting, bone shattering mess. He caught another one as he noted the gunshots stopped. Braeden stepped back, taking precious seconds to reload.
Derek stepped in front of her to cover her as she reloaded. Lydia ran for the bleachers and higher ground, Malia running with her to protect her while Liam launched to help Scott. Stiles took out another wendigo at the kneecaps as it ran for him and then watched in slow motion as Derek’s gun ran out of bullets and he was overtaken. Derek tried to fight them off fought but couldn’t keep the two wendigos from biting into the flesh of his chest.
His human chest.
Something inside him snapped. Stiles was vaguely aware of the roar of fury coming from his own mouth as Lydia let out another piercing shriek of her own. Scott and Liam roared where they were fighting their own off, nearly swarmed and covered in blood. Braeden gave up on the bullets and started beating the ones after her with the butt of her gun.
Panic and rage battled in Stiles’ chest. It felt like his lungs were shredding.
Derek’s name had been the key. Lydia predicted it. Stiles had just never thought he’d be unable to stop it. His legs were shaking but quick under him as he ran fast for Derek. He launched himself at the wendigos with a speed and fury that was terrifyingly reminiscent of the way he’d moved when the nogitsune possessed him. He pushed it aside and reared his bat behind his head, tightening his grip until his fingers ached with it.
He swung his bat hard and was rewarded with the crunch of the wendigo’s jaws before he reared back, looking at Stiles in some vague surprise. That was all he had time to do before Stiles was slamming the bat into his face, lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. Stiles pivoted as the second one went for his ankles and kicked this one straight in her throat. She gagged and coughed blood before Stiles swung the bloodied end of the bat around to smash in her face.
“Don’t you touch him! ” Stiles snarled as another wendigo went for them Derek. He swung around like an all-star and his bat smashed right into their rib cage with a sound like firewood crackling and he went down. Braeden had gotten pushed bag but finally managed to break the skull of the wendigo she was grappling with and dart for Derek.
Stiles wasn’t proud of the snarl he let out at her. She lifted her hands, blood splattered but steady. He turned his attention back to Derek, taking in the damage and dropping his bat. He could still hear Scott and Liam snarling a bit behind him but Malia and Lydia were quiet. He tried to take that as a good sign.
“Derek! Hey, look at me, buddy. You hanging in there?” He asked, trying to ignore how pale Derek was. His own voice shook and he lifted up the tatters of Derek’s shirt to see under it.
They’d managed to gnaw into the muscles of his chest. Stiles fought back a rush of bile as he saw the white of ribs before it filled with blood. He reared back and ripped off his overshirt, balling it up and placing it on the wounds before leaning up on his full body weight.
“Feel kinda cold.” Derek muttered a bit. “That’s… not good, is it?” Derek’s eyes were pale, wide and a bit glassy, staring directly into Stiles’ own. He was soaked in blood, defensive bites littering his arms and hands that bled sluggishly as he reached up to grip at Stiles’ forearm.
“Can’t be worse than wolfsbane, right? You’re fine, Derek, you’ll be fine.” He tried to sound confident and reassuring. It was hard when his stomach was flopping inside him like a dying fish.
“About the same.” Derek shifted and made a small, pained sound.
“Stop that.” Stiles admonished and pushed more weight down, legs shaking, trying to stop the gush of blood that poured through the soaked shirt and over his fingers.
“Hurts.”
“No shit. I need to keep pressure on it. You just gotta stay still, I’ll keep you safe. Just trust me, ok?” He shifted his knees up to give him more leverage. Derek’s hands squeezed tighter on his wrists, shifting up his elbows.
“I do.” Derek said and nodded a bit. He winced a bit and shivered. Stiles swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. The background finally went silent and he heard rapidly running feet pounding up behind him. Braeden was still sitting back on her knees, hands up. Scott hit the ground beside Stiles and he tried not to snarl at him the way he had at Braeden.
“Pull up for a second, I gotta see the wound” Scott gasped a bit, panting and wiping blood from a quickly healing bite on his forehead. Stiles stared at Derek for a long minute before he received a jerky nod. He pulled back, moving his useless, sodden shirt out of the way. The blood bubbled as it gushed out again and Derek wheezed with every time he inhaled and exhaled.
Braeden swore from behind him. Lydia had already tugged out her cell phone to call an ambulance and was shakily talking to an operator. Stiles stripped off his t-shirt and slammed it down over the wound again, smoothing Derek’s hair off his forehead with one bloody hand when he cried out in pain.
“Sorry. Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t seem to stop repeating it and slid his palm over Derek’s cheek.
“S’ok. Stiles.” Derek coughed a little. “I need to..”
“You need to lay here and wait for an ambulance.” He interrupted and blinked hard against his blurring vision. He immediately regret it when a tear plopped down on Derek’s jaw.
Derek’s brows furrowed in concern and confusion. He coughed again and blood came out over his lips. Stiles’ arms were numb with panic now and he felt his elbows shaking under his own weight.
“Oh god, how far away are they?!” He shouted at Lydia. She looked over at him, fat tears spilling over her own cheeks and her eyes huge in her face. Liam moved over to Derek’s other side putting pressure on a wound on his leg that Stiles hadn’t even noticed. Everything was patchy, some images fuzzy in his head while other burned with clarity, searing into his memory.
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Don’t… don’t think I’ve got fifteen minutes.” Derek croaked out with another mouthful of blood.
“You better have—you can’t...No. You’re not allowed to die here, do you understand me? You can’t! I didn’t even—“ He cut himself off and bit hard on his bottom lip, looking up to Scott helplessly. The Alpha gave a pained, destitute shrug, pulling open another wound on his shoulder before it healed. Malia was glaring at Derek’s chest like she would be able to stop the bleeding by sheer force of stubbornness alone. “…Give him the bite! Bite him, Scott!”
“I… I don’t know if that will work. It could make it worse!”
“No.” Derek shook his head minutely. “Not enough time.” He gasped a bit and gave another wet cough that made Stiles’ heart crumple in on itself.
“Nononono, please no, no, this can’t happen…” Stiles muttered, bending over his arms. Derek pressed a shaking, cold hand over the back of his neck and tugged him, pressing their foreheads together.
“Sorry, Stiles.” He murmured. Their eyelashes caught when they blinked and another tear fell over Derek’s cheek from Stiles. It looked like he’d cried it himself.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for because you’re gonna make it. We saved each other how many times? One more time, right?” He murmured.
“N-not… this time.” Derek replied and his eyes fell shut. Stiles breath stopped in his chest and his heart lurched.
“Please don’t leave me.” Stiles whispered.
Derek’s eyes opened again, half-lidded with pain and exhaustion. He let out a pained sigh and Stiles screwed his face up in a sob, closed his eyes tightly. He heard Lydia stifle a loud sob of her own. Fuck it, he thought and bent the little bit further to press his mouth gently to Derek’s own. Derek sucked in a hard breath through his nose before it let out slowly and he went slack, hand falling off Stiles’ neck.
“NO! No, Derek no, fuck!” Stiles screamed and shifted, jerking his head up at Braeden. She had a hand over her mouth, eyes watery. “Come here.” She frowned and hesitated. “COME HERE NOW” he bellowed, impatient and panicked. She took several long steps and came over to kneel by him. “Hold the pressure.” He commanded before moving to Derek’s other side. He layered his palms over Derek’s sternum and pushed down, counting the beats in his head. Was it 30 or 60?
“Stiles…” Scott started. Stiles couldn’t even make words, just howled at him in rage and continued pumping. He had to keep his brain from dying. The sirens showed up and Lydia rushed to meet them, telling them how long he’d been out and the symptoms, voice shaking and higher than usual.
A hand touched Stiles’ shoulder and he jerked away from it to keep pressing on Derek’s lungs, begging them to work, for his heart to beat again. They kept talking to him and pulling him away from Derek.
“NO! He’s not.. I have to…!” He flailed and kicked his feet, screaming as arms tightened around his waist.
“Stiles! STILES! Son!” his dad shouted from by his ear. The paramedics descended on Derek’s prone form in a flurry of movement. “They’ve got him, son. They’re going to do everything they can. It’s ok.”
“He can’t… He can’t… I can’t lose him too, dad, I can’t…Daddy please.” Stiles choked out and turned into his dad’s arm. He crushed him in a hug and rocked side to side, heedless of the blood.
“They’ll do everything they can. You did everything you could. Breathe, Stiles, breathe with me, ok?” His dad murmured, rubbing a hand up and down his back. He hiccupped and gulped for air. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“No. I want to go to the hospital. I want to be there if…” The words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t breathe around them and they wouldn’t come out. He swallowed hard, staring around him, wondering how the hell his dad was going to explain this to his deputies in a detached way. His brain was trying to distract him. Everything feels suddenly slow. He keeps moving his hands, his arms, touching his face and his elbows. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. The sweat on his back is cooling in the breeze. He feels suddenly exposed.
“Okay. Just breathe, alright? I’ll take you.” His dad ushered him towards the car, got him seated and buckled in without any conscious effort on Stiles’ part. The drive was silent. Stiles pressed his hand over where Derek’s palm had been on his neck, solid and alive minutes ago. His dad shot him worried looks every so often but knew better than to try and engage him.
When they arrived at the hospital, everything was a flurry of movement. Doctors were rushing back and forth and the Ambulance was pulled to the entrance and open. Stiles rushed in and Melissa stopped him.
“Stiles.” She called before she trotted over and grabbed his shoulders. He didn’t like the look on her face and felt the blood drain down from his head. “They got him back but it’s touch and go. I won’t lie to you. It’s pretty bad. His lung is punctured and collapsed, he’s missing muscle and a lot of blood…Why isn’t he healing?”
“He’s human now. He’s… Kate did something. He lost his power.” He replied woodenly. She nodded a little and smoothed Stiles’ hair.
“They won’t let you in to see him yet. Let’s get you cleaned up. I think Nurse Davis has a scrub top he can let you borrow.” She rubbed his shoulders and sent an anxious look to his dad over his shoulder. Stiles just let himself be ushered along. He felt like his limbs were made of cold lead; heavy, useless, and numb.
The movies always make it seem dramatic. A rush to the hospital and doctors shouting and running. The reality was an oppressive quiet and an interminable wait. Stiles rubbed his now mostly clean hands together and over his mouth. There was still blood around the edge of his nails, splattered over his face and soaked into the knees of his jeans from the ground beside Derek
“Hey.” He startled and stared up at Scott. He took up the chair across from him, in a new shirt and shower damp. His shoulders were slumping. “Any news?”
“Still not dead.” Stiles gulped and scrubbed a hand down his face.
“Good. That’s good. I should have heard them coming..” He sighs.
“Don’t do that. I can’t right now.”
“Sorry.” Scott gave him a sheepish look.
“There’s not anything to be sorry about. He’s going to make it. He’s going to be just fine.” Stiles practically ordered it. Maybe if he believed enough he could make it come true.
“Your dad and Lydia are spinning a drug gang kind of story. Bath Salts or whatever it was that made that dude in florida try to eat faces...” Scott gave a feeble chuckle and a half hearted smile. It didn’t meet his eyes. Stiles just looked up at him, feeling a bit numb and detached. “You kind of kicked ass today, dude.” Scott tried again. Stiles just nodded dumbly. They sat in silence for a beat. “So…how long with…?” Stiles blinked at him in confusion for a moment before he remembered pressing his mouth to Derek’s.
“Um…a while.” He admitted quietly, wringing his hands together. Ten fingers. Still real. He was still wishing for a nightmare.
“What about Malia?”
“She dumped me when she saw the list. We were… I…I care about her. She’s pretty great.” He sighed a bit and the expansion of his lungs still felt like it was shredding something inside him. He felt a weight and pressure, like there was something he should be doing. “But…It just wasn’t… She was always into me. It was nice. I think we both needed each other for a little bit.”
“I thought so, honestly.” Scott admitted quietly.
“I still care about her. We’re pack. I just don’t think it’s…I don’t think it’s what she needs anymore. Or what I need. Or even what either of us wants. I just… I didn’t really know it was this much, y’know?” Stiles scrubbed a hand over his hair and then gnawed at a thumbnail for a moment, recoiling when he tasted blood. “I knew he was important to me but I didn’t want to think about it too hard. I just… I’m really fucking scared, Scott.”
“I know.” Scott nodded again and Stiles felt a sickening rush through his stomach.
“How did you…? How can you breathe?” Stiles blinked again, trying not to freak out again.
“Sometimes I don’t.” He replied carefully. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it really happened. But. I just try and take care of the pack. I’m trying to be better about being there for everyone.”
Stiles didn’t know if he could keep breathing but there was still hope yet. He shifted to sit by Scott and received a brotherly arm around his shoulders for support. He took several slow, careful breaths before he noticed Scott’s arm tightening. Melissa ran up the hall and into the room.
He heard the flat line as the door swung shut.
“No.” He gasped and stood, running and pushing his way into the room.
“You can’t be in here!” A nurse protested but he shrugged off their hands and stood just out of the way, watching them work to try and get Derek stabilized. He watched as the room slowly stilled around the persistent tone of the machine crying that Derek’s heart had ceased to beat.
The doctor called time of death. Someone was screaming. Stiles’ knees gave out and he slammed his fists to the floor repeatedly before Melissa rushed over and grabbed him, rocking back and forth. The screaming muffled and he realized it was him again. He couldn’t seem to stop. He grabbed fistfuls of Melissa’s scrubs and sobbed into her shoulder.
They unhooked him from the machines as Stiles slowly quieted and the room emptied. He stood on legs as shaky as a newborn foal, stumbling to the bed.
“Stiles—“ Melissa started but ignored her. His throat wouldn’t work anymore, sore and closed up around his grief.
He bent and smoothed Derek’s hair back again. His face was still pale, eyes closed. His lashes were dark fans against his cheek bones. He rubbed the tip of his thumb lightly against them before he bent and pressed their foreheads together again.
It felt like a giant hand had grabbed his ribcage and crushed it in, emptying and breaking Stiles in one movement. He closed his eyes. Derek’s forehead was still warm against him but everything smelled like blood and hospital. He took several slow, deep breaths, and then crawled into the side of the bed, leaning against Derek’s chest, putting his hand over his still heart.
“This can’t be real” He muttered to Derek. “I didn’t save you this many times for you to be dead. You can’t.” His voice cracked and he sobbed again, turning his face against the bandage they had wrapped him in to stop the bleeding. It was still white on the outside, clean and pale amidst the smeared mess. He sniffled pathetically, balling his fist up over Derek’s sternum and pressing closer.
Someone came up, putting a hand on his shoulder. He slapped them back cruelly without looking and clutched to Derek, wrapping his arms around his waist tightly. He heard the footsteps hesitate and walk back. There was murmuring in the hallway but it sounded like nothing to him.
Stiles shifted a bit, pressing his nose to Derek’s chest. It smelled like antiseptic. He retreated to a still, quiet space in his head. He’d tried so hard to save him. He imagined Derek breathing quietly again. What could have happened if he’d admitted it to himself earlier? Maybe they’d have been like this one morning, warm under blankets with cold noses, Derek’s heart thumping steadily in Stiles’ ear, his broad hand pressed between Stiles’ shoulder blades. It was a nice thought.
Stiles vaguely registered his dad’s voice but it still didn’t sound real to him. He felt almost as if he were in a trance. He couldn’t have Derek, not anymore, but he could have this. He felt a swelling pressure rising in his chest. He absentmindedly thought that the panic attack might actually kill him when it hit. Someone tried to move him again and he wrapped his arms and legs tight around Derek, clutching him. He couldn’t leave him. They backed off after a moment.
Stiles didn’t know how long he laid there, just begging the universe not to take him.
Some of the pressure he was feeling started to ease slowly. He sniffled a bit and rubbed his palm against Derek’s skin. He almost swore he could feel his heart beating beneath his cheek, the gentle swell of his chest as he breathed. He heard Scott murmuring to someone quietly.
“What’s happening? What’s that light?” His dad asked. Stiles frowned a little, wishing they’d just let him be with Derek. He focused harder, trying to drown them out.
Derek shifted beneath his hand. His heart thumped.
Stiles jerked up, looking down at him. His skin rippled for a moment, twisted and pulled until there was… a wolf. A real wolf, fur and snout and blinking pale blue eyes.
“What?” Stiles blinked dumbly. The wolf huffed quietly and then scrambled to put it’s paws on the bed. It sat back on it’s haunches and tilted it’s head in confusion.
“Holy crap, dude.” Scott muttered from near the door. Melissa poked her head in and met Stiles’ deer in headlights expression with her own.
“I… have no idea how I’m going to explain this one, guys.” Melissa muttered, shaking her head. His dad was looking from the wolf to Stiles and back, and Scott looked like someone smacked him across the back of the head.
“Derek?” Stiles asked quietly. The wolf moved forward and whuffled at his neck for a moment before pulling back and shifting carefully. It morphed into a very naked, but still alive Derek Hale.
“You’re ALIVE. Oh my god you’re alive. You died. But you’re alive!” Stiles sobbed incoherently and grabbed his face to press another kiss on him. Derek blinked at him in surprise before Stiles started kissing over his face, pressing several to his cheeks and forehead. “You’re fucking alive!”
“I died?” Derek sounded confused. “You’re kissing me.”
“Yes. That’s a thing I’m doing. Because you’re alive and you scared the shit out of me.” Stiles nodded and pulled back to look into Derek’s eyes. His open eyes! His chest felt like it might burst. He heard his dad and the others make a few awkward sounds before sliding out of the door.
“How am I alive if I died?” Derek looked out of sorts and slid a careful hand up Stiles’ bicep. He grinned at him.
“I… don’t actually know? I was…I was here with you. I had my cheek on your… over your heart.” He felt himself flush a bit, slightly embarrassed. He slid his palm over Derek’s heart, reassured by the steady thrum of life beneath his touch. “I just… I couldn’t leave you. Then you took a breath and just… shifted. And there was a wolf there.”
Derek slid his own hand over Stiles’. There was a sharp line between his brows as he thought, his thumb swiping over the back of his hand.
“My mom used to be able to shift. She said it was a gift our family could do but we had to… there were reasons. Peter said something once…”
“Wow, I didn’t think you could say anything that would make me want to get out of bed with you. I was wrong.” Stiles tried to joke, his voice a wrecked mess.
“Shut up, Stiles.” He said it fondly and tightened an arm around him as if to keep him there. “It was about the—simple yet undeniable power of human love.” Derek’s face flushed a little bit and Stiles stared at him, heart in his throat for a minute.
“Presumptuous, aren’t you? I mean I just saved your life and kissed all over you, are we really saying the L-word?” He tried for teasing but he was pretty sure he fell short of that.
“Yes.” Derek replied simply and took all the wind out of Stiles’ levity. “I’ve… known for a while. You always save me. Even if it hurts you. I trust you.” If there were a way to be punched by words in a way that felt good, Stiles would have just had it happen. Maybe it was more like when someone ran and hugged him too tightly, leaving him breathless and happy at the same time.
“I trust you, too.” He murmurs, and somehow that feels more important than love, or maybe they’re both wound together so tightly that there’s no difference anymore.
Derek shifted, running the tip of his nose down the bridge of Stiles’ own before tilting his head to press a kiss to his mouth. Stiles let out a soft sound, pressing closer to Derek and opening his mouth so Derek could lick inside. There was still the faint taste of blood lingering on his lips and reminding Stiles painfully of how lucky he was right now. He cupped Derek’s jaws and kissed him back harder, sliding their tongues together and tracing the ridges on the roof of Derek’s mouth. He was rewarded with a shudder and they both pulled back to breathe shakily in each other’s space.
“You didn't leave me.” Stiles whispered and didn’t hold back his grin. “I love you.”
“I know.” Derek replied, and his smirk at the quote faded to a soft smile as he continued. “I love you too.”