Perfect Fit (Derek Hale Fanfiction Book #1)

Chapter Twenty-Four: Dilemma

            A low growling noise and the sound of flesh hitting wood pulled me out of a strange dream where I dyed my hair purple and joined the cheerleading squad. I rolled over, groaning and stretching my sore muscles. Derek must’ve taken my leggings off for me, so I was just wearing my purple knit shirt and underwear. At first I didn’t notice anything weird, but when I’d rolled so far over I was practically falling off the bed, I realized Derek wasn’t in bed beside me, and I sat bolt upright.

“Derek?” I called into the dark, empty room; it must’ve been like two in the morning. There was a thin band of light shining under the bathroom door, and I heard the slightly muffled sounds of water running and cabinets opening and closing.

“In here, Chris.” I slid off the bed and ran over to push the bathroom door open, flipping the light switch on at the same time. I gasped when I caught sight of Derek, one hand pressed tightly on his side, unwrapping an alcoholic cleaning wipe to clean up the blood that was smeared on his ribcage.

“Derek, what happened?” I gasped, running over to him and taking the wipe from his hand. When Derek turned to look at me, his face didn’t portray any signs of pain, but I knew better than that. I slowly peeled his hand away from his torso to examine the cut. It wasn’t a bad gash, just three claw-like slashes that hadn’t gone in very deep, and they were already starting to heal, but there was drying blood everywhere.

“Nothing, I just went out to hunt the kanima but I lost it when the Argents showed up.”

“Did you bring Isaac with you? Erica? Boyd?”

“None of them know what they’re doing. They’d be more of a liability in a fight than an advantage.”

“Fine. But it’s dangerous! What would’ve happened if the kanima had poisoned you?”

Derek didn’t say anything, instead taking the bloody wipe from me and throwing it in the trashcan. He had that emotionless mask on his face again, the one he wore out in public. He grabbed his bloody t-shirt and walked back into the bedroom, with me trailing behind him a little more uncertainly now.

“I’m just worried. I mean, you could’ve ended up dead tonight,” I said shakily, the reality of that hitting me hard. 

Derek still ignored me, changing into a pair of sweatpants and climbing into bed. Once he was lying on his back, looking at me, he stretched one hand out and patted the space beside him.

“Chris, it’s fine. I’m fine. How bout we just go back to sleep and talk about this in the morning?”

“Is that the plan then, Derek? Just go and nearly get killed and then come home and pretend like nothing happened?” I was shouting now, but I was angry that Derek was treating this like no big deal. He shut his eyes tightly, groaning, before he sat up and looked at me imploringly.

“No one’s getting killed-“

“You could have. Tonight.”

“But I didn’t.”

“But you could have! Do you not remember the pool incident? We both almost died, Derek. You almost died.” I was tearing up now, and I reached a hand up to wipe away the stupid tears. Derek looked at me for another moment, crying and vulnerable and scared, and then stood up and walked over to me, slowly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it bothered you so much,” he said quietly, genuine regret in his expression as he pulled me into his arms. I broke down, wrapping my arms around his torso and burying my face against his warm chest. I could feel his heart beating against my cheek, and his breath against the top of my head, and it just made me want to hold on to him tighter.