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After Kate's run-in with Scott, Derek stopped searching for her, instead devoting his time and energy to figuring out who's behind the deadpool - and stopping them. He's been trailing Peter for a while, which led him to the dank and cramped space he's walking through tonight. He has reasonable suspicions and knows Peter is likely up to something, despite how strong his instinct to trust his family still is. A shiver of guilt runs through him and he hears a taunting voice saying it's your fault, you know. Peter wouldn't be the way he is if it weren't for the fire caused by your stupidity. Derek shakes off the shame, squares his shoulders and keeps moving forward.
He hears labored breathing ahead, even though his ears haven't been as enhanced as usual lately, ever since his powers started draining from whatever's been happening to him. Derek quickens his pace and starts to jog a bit, turning in the direction he hears the pained breaths coming from. Derek's heart suddenly leaps into his throat and stops beating for a moment when he sees Chris Argent slumped against the dirty concrete wall, a rusty twist of metal protruding from his front. Derek rushes over to him and doesn't waste time getting the full story.
"Peter?"
"Who else," Chris spits out. There's blood in his salt-and-pepper beard, and his face is pale and sweaty.
"I'm not going to be able to get you off this thing myself. I'm not strong enough to do it with the kind of precision necessary to not kill you in the process. So I need some help from you. My mother used to tell me humans had the ability to tap into a stronger and more animal version of themselves, not exactly like the shift, more like an alternate energy. An adrenaline rush from primal emotions like fear and anger. I'm sure you don't trust me enough to admit to me that you're afraid of anything, but anger can be just as powerful. I used it as my anchor for years and years. It's probably the reason I survived some of those years. And adrenaline can help. So just come on, give me everything you've got."
"I've got nothing, Derek. I've lost everything. The only family I have left is a murderer of a father who resents me for not being like him, and a sister who..." Chris trails off, obviously knowing he doesn't need to explain to Derek just who Kate really is.
"Would you rather have a sister who's a perfectly decent person but won't take your calls because she's apparently decided she's better off without you? Or an uncle who spends his spare time doing this?" Derek deadpans, gesturing to the carnage of Chris' torso. Chris huffs out a small, broken laugh, and it must jostle the iron bar in his stomach, because Derek smells a fresh wave of blood and pain.
Draining the hurt is one of the powers Derek still has, although it's been fading in strength for weeks just like his sense of smell and hearing. He hopes he can fix whatever's going wrong before he loses it entirely. Not being able to help someone is the worst kind of powerlessness.
Chris feels cold when Derek unbuttons his shirt a little, presses a hand against his skin and tries to siphon just enough of the pain to keep Chris lucid. He's afraid if he takes too much, he'll weaken himself to the point of not being able to haul Chris out of here and get them both to safety when this is over.
There's no reaction from Chris. It seems like a lost cause, like he already has given up hope completely. Derek decides to play dirty. "Do you think Allison would want you to just give up like this? I think she'd want you to fight. To stay alive long enough to protect this town. Don't let her down, Chris." Chris doesn't respond to Derek's goading at all, which means his head is too foggy to form words, or else it just hurts too much to talk. Either way, Derek needs to move fast.
"Chris, please. Derek continues, his voice increasingly louder and less measured, more frantic, desperate. "You can't die, Scott's a great alpha but he's just a kid, his pack needs help. And when they go off to college, who's going to protect Beacon Hills? We can't do this without you. I can't do it without you." "Okay," Chris breathes, his voice getting a little more steady.
"Okay, okay, I'm...AH!" He practically roars as he surges forward, finding enough strength to free himself, then collapsing at Derek's feet.
♢
The staff and patients at Beacon Hills Memorial are treated to what Derek thinks must be a pretty absurd sight, him stomping into the sterile waiting room carrying a bloodied Chris bridal style. Melissa has the night off, but fortunately (or unfortunately, since the hospital is a place he generally associates with disasters) Derek's familiar enough with a few of the other nurses to get Chris bumped to the top of the emergency list.
Chris is whisked away and then there's nothing for Derek to do but wait. He texts Scott and Braeden to update them on what's going on. They both offer to come help and provide moral support, but he feels like he should be able to handle this responsibility alone. Derek can't really explain why he feels like Chris is his to take care of. He just does.
A nondescript man in a lab coat briskly shakes Derek awake. "You're with Argent?" Derek nods, still too fuzzy to verbalize an answer, eyes all bleary. "We're discharging him. He's going to be tired, of course, but he's conscious now and healing at an impressively fast pace. And it's completely safe for him to go home and rest if that's what he needs," the doctor reassures Derek.
After Derek gets Chris settled in his car, he turns down the radio and drives just a little bit more slowly, more carefully. Chris smiles a soft, pleased-looking smile right before he nods off - probably a side effect of the painkillers, Derek thinks.
"Space," Chris mumbles as he drifts back to sleep. "What?" "Space, m'afraid...outer space. Trust you enough."
♢
In the parking lot to his building, Derek reaches over to Chris, jostles his shoulder gently. "Hey, we're ho- we're here." He unbuckles Chris' seatbelt for him, then slips out of his own seat and walks around to the other side of the car to open the passenger door. He uses his body to support Chris on their way into the elevator to Derek's floor, even though Chris grumbles that he's perfectly capable of walking.
Inside Derek's loft, he gets Chris planted on the couch, surrounded by plush, soft cushions. He offers Chris a knit blanket and Chris accepts, lifting up a corner and tilting his head in an invitation for Derek to share. Derek accepts without thinking about how unusual this is for them, how many barriers seem to have melted away for no reason. It seems like the most natural thing to curl up against Chris' side, careful not to put too much pressure on him, and give him a gentle kiss.
The kiss is so soft and quick, over almost instantly, and Derek pulls back immediately to search Chris' face for hesitance or shock or disgust - some sign of his inevitable rejection. All Derek finds is a hunger in Chris' eyes before Chris swoops back in, slots his mouth against Derek's, and takes.
It's the neediest, most perfect thing Derek's ever experienced, and he hates that he has to stop it. "Hold that thought," he begs Chris. "Just hit pause for an hour or two."
"Why?"
"Because we have company." Derek lifts the blanket, delicately disentangles himself from Chris, and walks over to the door of the loft, opening it just after a knock comes from the other side. He shuffles so Chris can get a better view of the doorway and the figures standing in it. Chris groans and rolls his eyes, but can't hide how genuinely happy he is to see Melissa and John, bearing homemade brownies and a fifth of whiskey. "Don't make me get up," he complains goodnaturedly, as he gingerly leans up straight and walks away from the couch to accept hugs and handshakes from his friends.
♢
Derek feels a little bad for interrupting what was clearly some kind of date night between John and Melissa. That's fine, it's just a double date now, teases a voice in his head, but he dismisses that voice. That's not what this is. Still, the four find a rhythm together and it feels easy. He can picture them doing this for a while even when they don't have the kids around to tie them to each other anymore. He won't admit it, but thinking about that inevitable time makes him nervous and anxious. They've done so much better when they've had each other and he doesn't know if he'd ready to go back to being alone.
♢
After everyone is comfortably tipsy and sugar-dazed, Melissa shoots one of her patented meaningful glances in John's direction and asks him to accompany her to the kitchen because "if we want coffee, someone has to help me figure out Derek's complicated espresso machine, and I'd rather not bother our hosts." Chris doesn't point out that he's not actually a host, since it's not actually his place, and Derek chooses not to read anything into that. Instead, he turns sideways in his chair, his knees almost brushing Chris' thigh, and smiles.
"So...space, huh? The only thing you're afraid of?"
Chris shrugs nonchalantly, though he's clearly feeling a tiny bit defensive. "Not the only thing, just a thing."
"It seems like a thing you wouldn't have to be afraid of. I mean, I doubt you're going to get abducted anytime soon."
"I'm not afraid of aliens, Derek," Chris snarks, before turning serious. "Space is full of the unknown. Fear of the unknown is perfectly reasonable."
Derek hums. "I guess I don't completely understand being afraid of the unknown. Sure, there's the potential for destruction, but there's infinite possibilities. Discovery. Anything could happen." Chris nods, the tension melting from his face. "That's a better perspective. I like that." Derek beams, reaching his hand across his lap to lace his fingers with Chris'. They fit perfectly.