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Stiles hated waking up groggy. He hated the feeling of not knowing where he was. He hated everything about it, really. Especially when he was in pain and couldn't remember what he had been doing before he had gone to bed. He tried to figure it all out as he laid in bed. The place smelled very different than his house, or at least he did. He wasn't sure. He smelled food but under that and all around him was a scent of mint and maybe coconut. He wasn't sure what that smell was. He attempted to move, but that hurt like a son of a bitch, so he stayed still and tried to get his eyes open. He did move his arms and found that he wasn't bound to the bed, but with how sore he was, it wasn't like he would make it out of bed without possibly screaming in pain.
"Please stay still," a person said.
Stiles did as he was asked. The voice was familiar, but his head was still fuzzy, so he wasn't sure who it could be. The accent was something he hadn't heard much. There were not many people with accents in Beacon Hills that he interacted with or at least accents that weren't the lovely lilt of Spanish. That one he would be used to.
"Agent Stilinski?" the person asked.
"Sorry," Stiles said. He blinked, but the room spun when the light hit his eyes. He felt like he was going to throw up. He got to his side just in time to do it. He heard what little he threw up hit the floor.
"Dear me, the lights are off. I'll get something to clean up the floor, just stay right there and don't move."
Stiles wanted to clap back that he wasn't going anywhere, but he didn't want to piss off the man. He was at his mercy, and while Stiles was an FBI agent and not a writer, he really hoped he didn't have a Misery situation on his hand. When the feeling of nausea faded, Stiles rolled onto his back and listened to the sounds around him. The days before were coming back to him in bits and pieces, so he was pretty sure he didn't have a huge blank about what got him here. The concussion he had seemed to be the biggest issue.
The man came back into the room and cleaned up the mess. Stiles looked to the side and opened his eyes. He saw the red eyes of an Alpha Werewolf, and that put it down to a Werewolf. At least whoever it was would know the Hales. There wasn't a single supernatural entity in Beacon Hills who didn't know the Hales. Stiles had only found out about the supernatural on accident. He had been in his father's office when a Werewolf had shifted and tried to kill him. Stiles had been marched to the Hales by his father and left there for an entire weekend. He had come out with books and a lot of knowledge and a vow that he was going to spend the rest of his life pissing off Peter Hale. So far, he was winning on that.
Normally, Stiles was based out of San Francisco, but with an uptick in gang and drug-related crime in Beacon County, he had been more temporarily to the county's seat. He and his team were working on trying to get through the deluge of crime in the county so they could go home. Stiles just enjoyed the hell out of getting to be near his father and pissing off Peter at the same time. The fact that Peter was dating Stiles' father just made it all so much easier to do. Dropping by the house when he knew that Peter had a fancy dinner planned or something else like that was the best thing in the world.
Peter gave as good as he got when it came to that, so Stiles didn't feel too badly about it. He just also hoped that him feeling like shit didn't mean that Peter had got revenge that had gone a little out of hand.
"Stiles," the man said.
"Here," Stiles answered. Even the sound of his own voice made his head scream at him.
"I've got a call in to the Sheriff's department. They know that I have you, but with the trees, it's impossible to get a helicopter here to get you, and the road leading here was washed out in the storm three weeks ago. I've got someone coming to fix it, but since I usually run into town and out again for my groceries, I haven't been in a rush. I was afraid to carry you into town as well."
"That's a good plan. I'd have thrown up on you. I am mostly sure it's just a concussion."
"Yes, that's the same thing I assumed. It's still raining right now, coming down pretty hard, but once it lets up, the paramedics were going to get a gurney here and use a little extra strength to get you out of here."
"Hmm," Stiles hummed.
"I'm going to touch you," the man said.
"Please, Gods above and below, make the throbbing in my head go away," Stiles said.
The man chuckled, but he touched the side of Stiles' face, and the pain there went away, not all the way but enough that Stiles' mind cleared. The rest of his body was still a throbbing mess, but he knew why the man hadn't taken the pain.
Stiles opened his eyes, and the room was darker now. It was still light enough that he could make out the face there. Deucalion was a friend of Peter's, and Stiles had met him a few times. His accent and the way he moved around made Stiles really want to crawl into his lap. Deucalion was exactly the kind of man his father had warned him away from that would break his heart. Yet, Deucalion was one of the nicer people than Peter knew.
Deucalion was also blind when he wasn't in his alpha shift. That explained the red eyes to clean up the puke. The smell had to be horrible to Deucalion.
"Sorry for throwing up. The smell."
"Well, that answers that you know exactly what I am."
"Yes, I've known. It's why Peter and I are antagonistic to each other. He was a dick to teenage me after I was in the room when someone attacked my father, and the supernatural was let out of the bag. So we've just built a friendship based on ribbing each other."
"Ah, Peter said the biting you two did at each other was a form of affection, but I never guessed it was that deep-seated. Until I met your father, I had only heard him bitching about one Stilinski. I assumed that when he said he was with Noah, that meant he and the Stilinski Peter bitched about were the same person. Then you showed up with lunch for Cora and Peter, and I learned that I was wrong. I am kind of glad I was."
"Why?"
"Because someone who is that smart to pull the tricks and jokes you have on Peter deserves someone better than him."
Stiles wasn't sure how to take that. He just chose to ignore it, and thankfully Deucalion seemed to allow it as he didn't press anything. "I think I need a drink of water."
"Sure, I have been in contact with one of the ER doctors. Just stay laying down, and when I come back with water, I'll get you up in bed, and we can go from there."
Stiles closed his eyes again and listened as Deucalion slipped out of the room. He knew that Deucalion was actually based in San Francisco but had moved here to work for Peter on a case he had going on that was right up Deucalion's alley. He had then chosen to stay, and the way that Deucalion spoke, Stiles had to wonder if he had stayed to get to know Stiles. It explained why Deucalion was always there, even when Stiles was just eating a meal with Cora. Stiles wasn't against dating someone older than him. He had a few older lovers in college and one person he had met while in training at the academy. He had never been that attached to them, though.
"Stiles?"
"I'm awake," Stiles said. He opened his eyes.
Deucalion was moving around without his cane, but then he knew his own place of living.
"Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
The room spun so much that Stiles was glad that he had nothing left to throw up. He still leaned on Deucalion and breathed shallowly so that he didn't throw up what Stiles assumed would be more bile. Deucalion wasn't taking his pain, but he was rubbing Stiles' back.
"Your father has texted me. The hospital gave him my cell number. Yours is somewhere in the Preserve. I gave him the coordinates of where I found you, so he's said as soon as the rain is up, he's going to send someone to try and find it given it's your work phone."
"How worried is he?"
"After the hospital had called him, much less. Peter was a mess as well. He's texted me more than your father. I think he's fixing to come out here. Now, what do you remember?"
"Head hurts too much. I remember I was out on a run and stumbled across something. I had my work phone because it has better reception for playing my Pandora stations out in the Preserve, and I didn't want to wait for the app to download the offline library. My version was corrupted, as I found out when I went to use it. Had to clear off everything and start over on my normal cell."
"Well, I found you at the bottom of a ravine. I can't tell you what happened. The rain made sure that if someone shoved you, we will never know unless you remember."
Stiles fought past the pain, and he tried to remember. He loved running in the light rain in the Preserve. It kept him cool with the warmth of summer. He just wasn't sure what he was doing in the area with the ravine. He normally didn't go there.
"My normal path was washed out," Stiles said.
"Ah, so you took a left instead of the right. The right is where the road is washed out to my place. I have to jump over it to make it on the road. There is another path they can take with the gurney, but it's still pretty bad as the damage is done. So you came out on the left side of the ravine area and?"
"Slipped. There were leaves over the path, and I missed most of them, but I guess I landed on mud that was over a rock, and it was slick as snot. I remember rolling downhill, and that's about it."
"Well, then I would say you'll be fine once the concussion heals. You responded just like the ER doctor said you should. He walked me through everything. I'm not that up on human injuries, and I didn't trust the Internet when it came to you."
Stiles said nothing to that. He really didn't want to read into Deucalion's words when he was still a little groggy.
"Water?" Deucalion asked.
"Yes." Stiles helped Deucalion steady the glass and aim. Stiles took a few sips and let them settle before drinking a little more. He still stopped before he got to what he thought was half a cup. He didn't want to throw up.
"The doctor said to try some tea if you could keep water down. Peppermint to help settle your stomach."
"Sounds lovely," Stiles answered. He sagged into Deucalion a little more, letting the older man take his weight. He was warm, and despite it being summer and the house Deucalion was in being on the warm side, Stiles was cold. He always was cold when he had a concussion. Stiles tried to get himself closer to Deucalion and the warmth of him.
"Cold?"
"Yes."
"I'll get you something else to wear then."
Stiles opened his eyes and looked down. He hadn't even thought about his clothes. He was still in the same briefs he had gone running in, but he was naked from the waist up. He wanted to grab a blanket and cover-up.
"Long-sleeved or short?"
"Long, please," Stiles said. He braced himself for the bed moving when Deucalion got up. It was not nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be.
Deucalion returned a minute later, slipped a shirt over Stiles' head, and then helped him get his arm through it. It was a little big on him, but then Deucalion's entire body was just slightly bigger than Stiles. He was ripped, a lot like Derek Hale but not nearly as noticeable in the Deucalion's clothes. He hid himself a lot like Stiles did.
"I wanna nap," Stiles said.
"Go ahead, I'll be listening to your breathing. I'll make the tea, and it'll be nice and cool when it's time for you to drink it. I've got the protocol I need to follow. Just sleep."
Deucalion helped Stiles lay down, covering up him and making him a little nest in the bed. It was a damned good bed, and Stiles didn't want to leave it.
The laugh that Deucalion let out told Stiles had said that out loud. He didn't mind too much. Deucalion had been subjected to the lack of filter Stiles had, and it seemed he was still interested in him.
"Sleep, Stiles," Deucalion said.
It was like Stiles' body obeyed the command because Stiles slipped into sleep.
---
Stiles snagged a post-it note from the little book and wrote down the date of the meeting. He would add it to the calendar as soon as his computer booted up; he was just glad that he didn't have to be the one at it. He sneered at his phone, and he hung up. He hadn't even been scheduled to go into work today because of working two weeks nearly straight on another case. He hated that he had been temporarily transferred back to San Francisco for a month after the head of the office and Stiles' boss had been involved in an off-duty car accident. Now he was dealing with idiots who couldn't do their jobs right. He was glad he was trusted to do this, but it just told him that he didn't want to ever be this high up the ladder. He was just fine where he was. He just wanted to go home and veg like he was supposed to. He missed Beacon Hills and Deucalion so much right now. It was just nine days, and then he could go home.
"Stiles?" Maria, Stiles' temporary assistant, called out. She had adapted well to the fact that Stiles hated the intercom and just yelled for him.
"Yes?" Stiles asked.
Maria came into the room with a stack of papers and laid them down. "These are the ones that need signatures today. I am sorry that you were called in for this. They should have been given to us yesterday to take care of, but Marshall chose to not head down here to drop them off and kept them in his office. I found the ones that can be signed by someone else, and they are being taken care of. Since you were called in today on an issue that should have been taken care of before you left yesterday, you leave when you are done here and your three days off start tomorrow. I've gone above you and talked to Richard about it. He's pissed off and is raising hell from his hospital bed."
"You didn't need to do that."
"I do, dear. It was done with malicious intent, and Richard had me keeping a lookout for that stuff. A few people in his office do this kind of thing, but this is the first time we've been able to get a good complaint against it. Marshall will probably be gone inside of a week. I've already been keeping a list of people to replace him, and when Richard tells me, I'll get them here for you to interview."
"So an hour of paperwork and I get to go home and have over three days off. I'll take that. Then I come in on Friday, but I have meetings on Saturday. I can live with all of this."
"You have a lunch appointment, and do not tell me that you won't be going. I will be making sure you go if I have to drag you there by your hair."
"Yes, ma'am," Stiles said. He had learned not to fight with Maria. She was the true power in the office, and even Richard didn't fight with her on anything. Marshall only did because he put no value on his life. It was why he was going to end up somewhere shitty.
The work took a little over an hour as Stiles had to pull up a few other files to look at since he hadn't been here for those cases. Marshall had talked about near one hundred files, and Stiles only had twenty. He wasn't happy that things had gotten that out of control, but then Marshall was shit at his job.
Stiles dropped the last file into the outbox and stood up, stretching, and his body let him know that he needed to relax. The case they had been working was local, and while he was in the office or at least an office building somewhere in the city most of the time, he had been working and not letting his body rest all that much.
"I saw you took a cab here," Maria said when she looked at Stiles as he stepped out of the office.
"Yes," Stiles answered.
"I called an Uber to take you to your appointment at the masseuse."
"I didn't have that."
"No, you didn't, but I put it in—you're sitting weird. You are carrying too much stress on your shoulders. Now, after that, another Uber will pick you up and take you to lunch."
"That works for me." Stiles rolled his shoulder and thought about how he was carrying too much stress. A massage would be good. He had taken to doing it on occasion before he left San Francisco, but he hadn't found a place in Beacon Hills he liked yet. He would have to do that. Though he hadn't really needed it as Deucalion liked to touch and despite them not getting anywhere close to the point of sex, Stiles had Deuc's hands all over his body. He missed that since he had been back in San Francisco. Talking to him over the phone and over Skype wasn't nearly as good as having him there with him. Deucalion was still working a few cases with Peter, so he couldn't just drop everything and return to San Francisco to spend time with Stiles.
The massage had been just what Stiles needed. He felt better than he had in weeks as he got out of the car at the restaurant. It was one of those fancy places where high-end business deals took place, movie stars ate, and marriage proposals happened. Stiles had been there for a few meetings before, so at least he knew he liked the food.
"Reservation for Stilinski," Stiles said.
"The other party is already here," the hostess said as she pointed up at the upper seating area. Large walls were blocking each of the booth tables from each other, allowing the people inside to look out on the people below but not have to if they didn't want to.
Stiles had sat up there a lot for meetings. It was nice as the voices didn't carry around. He wouldn't be able to see who was up there until he got all the way up there. He didn't think that Maria would have set up to have lunch with someone questionable. She knew about Deucalion, even if Stiles had never said who it was. He inhaled and walked up there. He figured he would know it was as soon as he was up there. Only the single waiter or waitress who was working the section was allowed up there because of the meetings.
The first two tables were full of stuffy men in suits, so Stiles kept on going. The last table didn't seem to have anyone at it, but Stiles figured it was where his mystery person was. He was more than pleased when he rounded the wall and saw the cane leaning against the booth. He had no clue where Deucalion wanted him to sit down, across from him or beside him. Then he realized that the cane was across the booth that he wasn't at. So Stiles sat down on the edge of the seat and smiled at Deucalion before he leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
"Maria told me you would be nice and relaxed when you came here. You very much smell like it," Deucalion said.
"Yeah, she forced me in to see a masseuse. I got a full package on it. There was even a hot spring after it. Which I'm kind of glad of since I'm meeting."
"I'm sure she did that for me. Maria is a human in my pack. When I showed up at your office to see about adding lunch to the daily schedule for you since I didn't have your office number and didn't want to involve you in the process if you had a meeting, I am not that shocked that she handled it all and made sure you didn't smell of anyone."
"I knew she was in a pack. How are your pack doing with you gone?" Stiles asked.
"Just fine. We are all very independent. After I was blinded by Gerard Argent, they tried to kill me. I severed their bonds to me and let them find their own way. Well, not the whole pack but more than enough of them did that. The rest wanted to go along with the people they had been close to for a decade. I came to San Francisco after Argent was caught for the slaughter of his own men and the pack I had with me. Talia Hale had someone recording it all. Thankfully, I wasn't wolfed out or anything when it was caught on camera that he blinded me. I lost my blind ideals when I lost my sight."
"Sounds shitty," Stiles said. He hadn't ever wanted to ask how Deucalion was blinded. He figured it would come up.
"It was, and I am thankfully for the help that Talia gave me then. She made sure that I was on good footing before she let me leave her house, which is how I survived my second trying to kill me. I ordered your drink and our appetizer but please, look at the menu. We have not eaten enough food like this together for me to correctly choose what you would want for your main course."
"I'm craving seafood and steak. I'm going to go to the bathroom, you order for me based on that, and I'm sure I'll love it." Stiles pressed another kiss to Deucalion's cheek before he slipped back out and headed toward the bathroom that was on this level.
When he was done in the bathroom and had washed his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. Despite the bags that were starting to form under his eyes, he looked happier than he had in a long time. He now understood why Maria had told him that Beacon Hills agreed with him. He just wondered what would happen when Stiles went back to Beacon Hills, and Deucalion went to San Francisco. He hoped they could stick it out, but if not, it wasn't meant to be. Stiles would take the time he had with Deucalion and cherish.
"Darling," Deucalion said when Stiles sat down again. He wrapped his arm around Stiles and pulled him closer. "What do you think of that house on Oak Street?"
"In Beacon Hills? That monster house that no one likes?"
"Why does no one like it?"
"It was assholes who built it. They weren't the nicest, but it's been empty for a long time. Why?"
"Well, I need a place for the pack, and the house I have in the Preserve is not nearly big enough even if the pack only visits."
"You are moving to Beacon Hills?" Stiles asked.
"Peter's asked me for years to join his firm, and I've always put him off, but now Beacon Hills has a draw that nowhere else does. Well, it will when you get back."
Stiles blushed and looked away from Deuc for a few seconds. It seemed like his worry was for nothing. Deuc was more than willing to meet Stiles in the middle.
The waitress brought along Stiles' drink and the appetizer, and the topic of conversation turned to more mundane things for now. They could talk about more heavy topics after the meal had been consumed. They had all the time in the world.