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.~.
Maybe it would’ve been different if the pack hadn’t split up to search for the two omegas that had decided to camp out on the Hale property for the past week or so.
As it was, it happened recklessly and unnecessarily.
Stiles had thrown himself in front of his body and taken a set of claws into his own chest.
Derek couldn't imagine the reason, but he was dealing with the aftermath. Cradling the younger man in his arms he pushed into the loft and tried not to whine when Stiles let out a rough moan when he was laid on the couch.
It was fortuitous that Derek had realized over the years that keeping first aid supplies in his loft was handy with Stiles around. So he gathered them up from beneath his bathroom sink and dumped them on his coffee table. His stomach lurching at the smell of blood soaking through Stiles' clothing.
Dialing Scott with his cellphone he turned to look Stiles over.
“Hey, you’ve reached Scott McCall! I can’t come to the phone right now but leave a message and I’ll call you back!”
“We found one of the omegas, Stiles was hurt, but I don’t think it’s that bad, so after I scared the wolf off we came back to the loft. Meet us back here when you can. Bye.” Derek left the message in a clipped tone and set his phone to the side.
Stiles' hoodie had been ripped off during the fight but Derek still had a flannel over shirt and a t-shirt to strip him of. Flicking out a claw he sliced the shirts off as gently and carefully as possible.
"Don' do that." Stiles mumbled, coming around for the first time since he'd taken the hit. He raised his arms and crossed them over his bloodied chest, hissing when his arms landed on the fresh claw marks.
"Hey, no." Derek said and easily pried his arms back away. "I've got to get you bandaged up and see if you need stitches."
"I ca'do it." Stiles slurred. His arms tried to push Derek's hands away, but they barely brushed him before falling limp with exhaustion. The blood loss and pain sapping too much strength from him.
Derek started swiping away the blood to see the wounds. Every swath of skin he uncovered was marked with pale white lines or puckered pink patches.
"What's.." he trailed off, moving the moist rag across more skin.
Stiles' eyes shot open and he cried out, his arms windmilling, surprising Derek and knocking him away. "That's why I said I'd do it. I don't need you looking at me like I'm a freak." Tears dropped from Stiles' long dark lashes and his breathing was labored from the energy he'd exerted.
"Stiles, you're not a freak. You're human." He whispered, realizing he was looking at several hypertrophic and atrophic scars. He gently pushed. His words soft, trying to get Stiles to calm. "Here, lay back and I'll take care of you."
"Just don't get your kicks by staring at them, okay?" Stiles voice was pained and angry.
"I'm not getting any kicks from this Stiles. You should know that I think they're beautiful though." He'd finally gotten the blood cleared away and could access the new marks. Luckily gauze and ointment would heal them up, no stitching needed.
Stiles sputtered, "Beautiful? I look like the human example of a warning sign to stay away from the supernatural!"
"No. You look like someone who cares about people enough to step in front of a fight to keep them safe. That's beautiful Stiles. That's rare and beautiful."
A bright blush pinked up Stiles' cheeks and he stayed quiet while Derek finished with his bandages.
"You guys do it for me all the time." Stiles mumbled after Derek had taped down the last pad of gauze.
"That's not the same Stiles. We're werewolves, we heal. You're human so it's a bigger risk for you, that makes it special. It’s reckless and unnecessary considering who your friends are, or more accurately what your friends are." Derek tried to quell the blush creeping up his neck and burning his ears, emotional speeches weren’t his thing. "Regardless, every mark you carry on your body is just a physical sign of your commitment to the pack and your loved ones. You shouldn’t be ashamed of them.”
“When you put it that way, they don’t seem so bad.” Stiles’ body relaxed as he thought what over what Derek had said. “I can’t believe you called them beautiful though.” he snickered.
“I’ve always thought you were beautiful, the scars aren’t going to change that, they just add a different layer to your appeal.” the words were out before he could think to censor them.
“I-uh, I’m really flattered,” Stiles stuttered out.
Derek disappeared into the bathroom to clean himself up before he could say anything else dumb. Hearing his phone chirp he turned to go back to the living room to answer it when he heard Stiles pick up the call.
“Hey Scott. -- Yea, I’m fine. -- No lacross for a bit, but it’ll heal. -- Nah, that’s okay. Derek can make sure I get home. You guys go on to Kira’s house. -- Bro, I’m positive. -- Shut up! Yes okay! -- Yea, well maybe he wants to spend time alone with me too. -- Yes way. I wouldn’t lie about something of this magnitude Scotty. -- Eww, don’t be a creeper. Go to Kira’s and forget trying to cockblock me. -- Yea yea, bye. Love you too Scotty.”
“I know you heard that Derek, so stop hiding in the bathroom.” Stiles called out after ending the call.
Derek walked around the corner with his eyebrows raised, “I didn’t realize we were in danger of being cockblocked.”
“We are if you keep talking about how beautiful I am and taking such sweet care of me.” Stiles replied smirking.
Derek cleared his throat, “I think I could arrange that.” Moving towards the couch where Stiles was still reclined, he bent down and gently took Stiles’ face in his hands. “Should I mention how many times I’ve tried to count your moles and wondered how much of you is covered in them?”
Stiles tried to lean towards him, but Derek had to bend down further to meet him, “Yeah, yeah you could definitely mention that.” He brushed his lips across Derek’s softly and pulled back, “I should probably tell you how many times I’ve written poems about your eyebrows in my head.”
"My... nevermind, you weirdo." Derek muttered, kissing him again softly, "After you heal I'm going to kiss every mole and mark on you. You have to heal first though."
Stiles pouted, cockblocked by his own injuries.
.~.
Weeks after they got together, if Derek noticed Stiles started wearing a few less layers and was no longer hiding his scarred forearms in long flannel, well, he didn't have to mention it to anyone.