Changing Patterns

• 28 •

    Stiles shivered awake, shaking his body violently and leaning up with a cold sweat wetting his skin as he pushes a hand against his forehead with closed eyes. He didn't need to open them to know Derek was there in bed. The notion still seemed awkward, and off to the younger adult. He felt out of place, and almost sinful with there being plenty more rooms to chose from. The dip in the bed shifted, Derek shifted; only rocking softly, a little uncomfortable. Derek's back was turned to stiles, and he was breathing heavily. When had Derek joined him, when had he got in bed. Was it all a dream, what he did and didn't know, see, o-or remember. Stiles panted heavily and dropped his hand to his lap. Then turning his head to Derek.

    In a flash stiles had seen the blood and non-healed gash over Derek's chest. The pinched eyes and brow. He was in pain, and hurt, and stiles was sleeping. The younger rushes to roll Derek onto his back, a large groan erupting as he laid flat cradling the wounded area. Derek's eyes don't open as he speaks, more like whispers.

    "Stiles?" He questions in a whispered groan. The younger nods lightly and dusts his hands over Derek's chest, brushing away the other hands and speaking upon remembering Derek's eyes being closed.

     "Yeah. Why rang you healing?" The ha man completely pulled away Derek's hands to look over the injury's.

    "Last time this happened I was evolving." Derek coughs through a chuckle. "But I already did that."

    "Shut up, don't start getting, like, um, uh- me! Don't start being me know, it's freaking me out." Derek chuckles as the choice of words.

    Stiles pushes back and gets off the bed, rushing to the bathroom and pulling open the cabinet. Nothing but hair gel, toothpaste, whitener, hair oil, that kind of shit. Stiles groaned outwardly and swung around the edge of the doorway.

    "Why do you not have any medical supplies. Malissa would kill you if she saw this cabinet."  The younger was already moving to the door and ignoring Derek trying to sit up.

    "Stiles-"

    "Don't. Answer that. I know, ducking werewolf healing. Don't move." Stiles tossed an un-aimed finger at Derek as he rushed from the bedroom door.

    Although returning rather quickly with a first aid kit and rubbing alcohol in hand. Stiles kneed the door shut behind him and made his way to climb onto the bed besides derek. Who had in fact moved to sit on the edge of the bed despite the humans instruction.

    "I said don't move." Stiles pinched Derek's shoulder instead of punching seeing as the man was hurt. An annoyed grain was earned. "See! Growling and groaning! That's your thing."

    "Yeah yeah." Derek stopped to push away Stiles's hand with what looks like gauze. "No."

    Stiles hilts completely to stare at Derek. "No." He mocks in a weird voice. "No, no you. You need this, your not healing."

    "I will, if I understood that statement right." Another small chuckle from the older earned a deadpan stare from stiles.

    "Ass. Let me do this. Your not healing at the moment and getting blood on your bed. Besides, maybe it'll be like with Scott. You think your healing so you do."  Derek reciprocates Stiles's prior stare.

    "Yeah, that's where I am."

    "Except your not healing, which means you don't think your healing, which is causing you to be in pain and bleeding to death."

    "Maybe it's the fact that you keep saying I'm not healing stiles!" Derek growls out angrily. Snapping grown teeth in their gritted position.

    "Mhmm... maybe, but maybe this'll help." Stiles piped slower then the last time. Derek rolled his head back in annoyance with his eyes closed.

    "Fuck stiles, whatever."  Derek leaned back and fought his shoulder on Stiles's chest. The younger looked down at Derek and thought a moment.

    Stiles placed down the gauze and rubbing alcohol after having decided. Wrapping a hand around the olders shoulders and leans his head down over Derek's own. Stiles's breath fans lightly over Derek's nose and eyes, the werewolf leaned further back into stiles at the feeling. The human only let his lips spread lightly at the vulnerable access given to him as he leaned further down. Wrapping one hand over Derek's chest to place a chaste kiss to the man's cheek.

"I promised myself I wouldn't make out with you anymore." He whispered lightly.

"Shut up." Derek stated as he reached up behind Stiles's head to grip the back of his neck lightly and pull their lips together.

Stiles kissed Derek lightly, staring another Peter forbidden session. Then stiles leaned their lips apart to speak a few quick words. Using the time to look over Derek's visibly healing chest.

"Is everyone okay?" Derek leans up to recapture Stiles's moving lips before responding.

"Yes." The two continued kissing as their skin began to heat like the fist time. Correction: Stiles's skin began to heat up like last time.

Derek gritted his teeth at the warm feeling of Stiles's skin. Hand unmoving and forehead pressed to Stiles's own with eyes closed. The wolfs chest only holding the sights of scratches know.

"And what about that feeling?" Stiles starts off topic. Derek's eyes open.

"It's the Sanctor shit. That's why your skin gets so hot. I thought you talked to Deaton about it." Stiles shakes his head at the words. Then stuttering an answer at Derek's confused look.

"No, no, yeah that's that. I mean yesterday. Night. Somethings wrong with the pack and we don't know what. Or at least one pack member." Derek sates a moment.

"We'll have to have a pack meeting. Figure out who else noticed it?"

Stiles's eyes widen. "Shit! I was supposed to talk to Scott about something. And I want you to tell me what happened earlier, I-... I can't remember." Stiles admitted carefully as he pulled himself off the bed and rounded to kneel before Derek and check out his chest.

"Jesus stiles I'm fine." Derek snapped annoyed. Beckoning stiles away as the younger grinned and grabbed a shirt. Stiles pulled on his shirt and started toward the door. Nodding a be right back and leaving the room with a soft smile. One reciprocated by Derek who; know healed, leaned back on his bed.

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