Til The Dawn [Midnights #1] ✓

chapter 27

Derek wasn't as prepared as he would have liked when they pulled up to the visitor's entrance of the hospital only ten minutes later. He both loved and hated that they lived so close, and right now it was more on the hate side of things.

Peter being out all night had really thrown him for a loop, and he hadn't realized how much he had come to depend on him being a phone call away at all times. And most of the time it wasn't even that far. Usually he could reach out and touch him, like now, but last night had been different. And it had felt different.

A situation he didn't want to repeat.

They got out of the car shortly after they parked, again leaving Derek no time to collect his thoughts, and Peter stretched wide and yawned loudly as he stood up to his full height again.

"We should've waited until you had a nap," Derek insisted as they walked toward the entrance. "This was a bad idea."

"You need to chill out," Peter said, another yawn threatening to take over. "I can handle myself just fine. I'm not that old."

He gave Derek a wink, which only caused him to roll his eyes in return, as they stopped outside the sliding glass doors just enough not to set off the sensors. They both peered through, trying desperately not to look like creepers, as they assessed the situation.

"That's Scott's mom at the front desk," Derek explained.

"I always thought she was pretty," Peter said absentmindedly. Derek was sure he didn't need to be here for this part of the conversation, but it wasn't like Peter even really noticed anyone else was around when he spotted a gorgeous woman. "I can get us past her."

Derek snorted his laughter. "Melissa McCall is a badass. You are not going to be able to flirt your way past her."

This time it was Peter's turn to roll his eyes. "Well, if you prefer, sneak past me while I'm horribly failing at flirting with her and let me in the back."

"Better," Derek said with a chuckle. "But I will admit it's going to be fun watching you crash and burn at this. Been a minute."

"How much are you willing to bet on it?" Peter asked, straightening out his shirt.

"Dinner from that expensive Italian place one town over," Derek offered with a smirk. "Werewolf-sized dinner. For me, you, Scott, and, hell, even Stiles."

"You're on," Peter conceded.

Derek reached out without hesitation and shook Peter's hand in agreement as they both sauntered forward slowly, Derek a few steps behind intentionally.

"Have fun at your funeral," he whispered. "I'll be right behind you."

Peter stood up as tall as possible, briefly squinting at his reflection in the window as he passed it to check his overall appearance, before heading inside finally. He had been out all night, was working with no sleep or even a shower, and yet he still looked like he always did. One of the many reasons why Derek Hale had a confidence problem.

As he watched his uncle loiter next to a sign while he waited for Melissa to be free, he took stock of him for the first time since this morning. He had been too distracted by the fact that he wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere, so he hadn't paid that much attention.

To start, his arm was sporting a few bruises, which meant that earlier that night it had been much worse. He knew better than to ask, though. Peter had always had a habit of keeping the worst from Derek, citing the fact that he was supposed to shield him from the bad stuff. Not that Derek needed him to anymore. But it didn't matter. Old habits died hard in the Hale Pack, and they were both living proof of that.