Changing Patterns

• 9 •

    "I- can figure it out." He snapped.

    "Infection?" Derek questioned lightly already starting for the bag of extra wrap and gauze and ointment Malissa had sent them off with.

     "YouTube-" Derek cocked an eyebrow at the start and stiles instantly changed his answer. "Malissa, if it gets that bad."

    "Pain?"

    "Numbing ointment." Stiles placed a pointer finger on the small plastic container Derek returned with. His hands also holding gauze and wrap, and the bruise ointment.

    "Irresponsibility?" Derek continued as he tugged Stiles's arm forward by the upper arm, the human giving no excuse or resistance. Derek sat down on the edge of the bed laying his clutter of things besides him.

    "Alarms-reminders on my phone." Stiles proudly stated as he watched Derek start to unwrap his arm.

    "Not knowing how?" Derek grumbled. This time his brow pinched as he watched his hands work. His voice slightly annoyed, or frustrated.

    "Watching you do it once?" Stiles's voice was almost questioning.

    Derek smirked and gripped Stiles's pillow from the floor, raising it and smacking it into his face as he quickly pulled off the wrap. The recovering human grumbling in annoyance and know slight resistance.

    "Vulnerability." Derek know stated and looked up between Stiles's coffee brown eyes. When no answer came Derek continued. His hands working all the while in removing the old bandage, preparing the new, opening the cream, and staring at stiles.

    "Letting yourself rest," silence as stiles watched Derek clean off the long gashes he winced at, then lay gauze over them. "Letting people in?"

    "Derek, stop." The human snapped in worry, he pulls his wrist away slightly, arm stinging as he glared back at Derek. The werewolf reached forward and grabbed hold of Stiles's hand, pulling it forward.

    "No. And your coming downstairs and eating. You don't have to eat a lot, just something.." Derek's voice softened lightly as he finished his last sentence.

    Stiles stared warily at Derek as he finished wrapping his arm. Stiles's energy dropped as he thought of eating, it made him more sick then the thought of not doing so. And that would be the reason he would, he knew he couldn't fall back into that pattern again. Stiles nodded at the words calmly but felt the bubble of worry in his chest.

    "I only said something, that could be one sausage or a whole meal Stiles's, calm down." Derek moved onto the humans other arm.

    "What?" Stiles shook his head slightly.

    "Your starting to smell like anxiety, and your heart is stuttering." Derek responded quietly. His hands working a bit quicker know and already wrapping Stiles's arm again.

    "Oh," stoles pulled his arms to his chest once Derek had finished.

    "Know your chest, and bruises." The werewolf leaned back a bit, his voice stern and leaving no room for argument. Stiles hesitated, not wanting to take off his shirt.

    "I already saw the bruises..." Derek mentioned gently, wanting to calm stiles slightly.

    The human nodded and curled his fingers around the edge of his shirt, slowly and worriedly. His hesitance caused for a slow removal of his shirt. The blue t-shirt pulling over his head and being tossed toward his hamper, Derek gently laying a hand on Stiles's rib bruise, then letting his hands trail over the cracked ribs. Stiles grinds his teeth slightly, his skin flinching under Derek's fingers.

    "Can you take off the wrap," Derek turned away and started to look through his clutter of things. Pulling bruise ointment from the pile and some numbing cream. "Here."

    Derek leaned a bit closer to stiles and dipped his fingers into the off white cream. Raising two fingers with the bruise cream on them and gently tapping his fingers over the bruise on his ribs. Rubbing lightly and keeping his focus of the job rather then Stiles's growing heart beat, the speed of it picking up as Derek continued to work. Derek tried to turn off his supernatural senses at the small and lingering smell of arousal that was growing. His nose was already on edge at the scent of stiles; vanilla, sweat, anxiety, freshness- like water, moss or the forest, arousal.

    Derek pinches his brow as he moves onto the next bruise, hesitantly pushing at Stiles's pant line to get the whole yellow-green patch of skin.

    "Who did these?" Derek asks almost angrily as he moves to the humans arms. Setting down the ointment to pull off the wrap on his upper arm.

    "Just one of the wolves, I think they forget their strength sometimes." Stiles finches his arm away as Derek started to examine the puncture marks on his bicep, these being the culprit to the smell of blood.

AN: I wanna change Pov sooo part 2

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