Work Text:
"Here, drink this," Stiles says, pushing a drink into Derek's hands. "You'll feel better."
Derek frowns down at the amber liquid. "Is this alcohol?" he asks, despite the smell assuring him its something else.
Stiles snorts. "No, I'm not stupid, Der, alcohol wouldn't do anything for you."
Derek hesitantly takes a sip, surprised when he can feel it warming him from the inside out. He takes a larger sip before asking, "But what is it?"
"Is it warming you up?" Stiles asks, eager.
Derek nods. "But - "
Stiles grins. "I knew I could do it. Deaton thought I was being a fanboy and being ridiculous, but I knew it could be useful."
Derek takes another sip and studies Stiles. "Is this - did you make butterbeer?" he asks, incredulous.
Stiles fist-pumps the air. "You bet your ass I did."
The werewolf grins, shaking his head and continuing to sip the drink. "How is it supposed to make me feel better? I've still got a bullet in my - " His voice trails off as he looks down at his arm. The bullet wound that had been bleeding profusely not long ago was healing much faster - in fact, was almost gone already.
"It speeds up the healing process. Even for werewolves, well, especially for werewolves. I haven't let any other creatures try it." Stiles kneels, cutting away the bloody bandage so that Derek could see properly. "Scott's been my test subject, but I wasn't entirely sure it'd work on you with you being an alpha."
"Stiles, you're a genius."
Stiles grins up at him. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
Derek laughs. "That's what you said this morning when I said I liked your waffles. And last night when - "
Stiles stops him with a kiss. "You do feel better, though?"
Derek nods, pulling him in for another kiss.