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It takes less than ten minutes for Scott to pass out from the pain. Stiles is just glad he isn't screaming anymore. God knows he doesn’t need anything else popping up in his nightmares.
It takes a while longer for Derek to finish burning the tattoo into Scott’s skin and Stiles is kind of done freaking out for now, so he just plops down on the cleanest part of the floor he can find.
He has his head cradled in his hands when he hears Derek turn off the blowtorch. He hears abrupt movement—because Derek only seems to be able to move abruptly—and he looks up and—he’s staring at him. Derek’s just… staring.
Stiles jerks to his feet and looks back at him. He’s not going to be intimidated by Derek leering at him anymore. (Okay, maybe he’s still a little intimidated by the big, bad Alpha Glare.)
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You, uh, changed your,” Derek gestures to his head, “your hair.”
That. That is definitely not what Stiles thought the first thing out of his mouth would be. “Um, yeah, yeah. I’m growing it out. Thinking of, you know, growing it long enough to donate to locks of love.”
Derek raises his eyebrow like he’s asking a question.
“I’m kidding. I’d look… horrendous with hair that long.”
Derek doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he just gets that same constipated look he always gets whenever Stiles tries to be funny.
Since he’s pretty sure that Derek’s silence means that they’re done talking about his hair, he says, “So, I heard you got new digs.”
That gets him a response, “How did you know that? Scott didn’t even know that.”
“My dad’s the sheriff,” he says with a shrug.
“Don’t you and Scott tell each other everything, though?”
“We don’t sit around gossiping about you, if that’s what you’re asking. But, uh, I haven’t seen much of Scott lately. He’s been busy.”
“Or he just got tired of hearing you talk.”
Stiles huffs, “Missed you, too, Derek,” and starts laughing.
“What.”
“You are the grouchiest werewolf ever, Mr. Grinch.”
“Hey, I haven’t stolen Christmas yet. And I’m pretty sure the Grinch wasn’t a werewolf.”
Stiles raises his eyebrows, “Ah, he does get some references.”
Derek doesn’t look impressed, but then again, he never does. “Everyone knows the Grinch.”
“Yeah, I guess they do.” Stiles grins at him, “You know I meant what I said earlier. I mean, I get why you haven’t bothered Scott in a while and thanks for that. But, like, you didn’t have to go completely away.”
Derek looks weird. He’s doing this weird thing with his mouth and- oh. That’s gonna be a smile. In like, no, no, give it a minute. This is a smile, ladies and gentlemen.
“Are you smiling at me?”
That weird look is wiped right off his face. “No.”
“Nope, it was a smile.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Say so,” he says, nodding.
“You're entitled to have an opinion.”
“And my opinion is right. You totally missed me,” Stiles retorts, “I can see it now: you, in your new place, whining to Isaac, ‘but why hasn’t The Stiles graced us with his presence?’”
“The Stiles? Really, that’s what you’re going with?”
“Well, it’d be a little presumptuous thinking that you referred to me as The Batman to other people.”
Derek glares at him. “Rest assured, I do not refer to you as ‘The Batman’ or ‘The Stiles.’”
Stiles clicks his teeth, “Really? Why won't anyone give me any nicknames that they call me to other people?”
“No, there are things that I call you to other people, but you wouldn't want to know what they are.”
Stiles smirks, “So, you talk about me a lot to other people?”
Derek glares harder.
Scott chooses that moment to gasp awake and Stiles turns to look at him, afraid he’s gonna start screaming again.
“It worked,” Scott says, looking happy.
And if Stiles’ smile isn't 100% because of Scott, no one needs to know that.
"So, what happened when was I passed out?" Scott asks when they get to his house.
Stiles shrugs his shoulders and pulls a face.
“Nothing.”