Blurry » Sterek

Chapter 25

"Got it! I got it!" Scott screams upon entering the Stilinski's household. Derek jolts awake, woozy at the sudden movement, his hand pressing against Stiles' chest to steady himself.

Stiles hears Scott stomp up the stairs and burst into his room, holding a silver bullet between his thumb and index finger. "Give it to me," Derek demands in a rough voice, opening the palm of his hand. Scott quickly delivers it.

Derek rips off the top with his teeth, pointing to an empty plate on Stiles' nightstand. "My jacket," he explains vaguely while Stiles hands him the dish. Scott digs through the pockets before lifting up a lighter with raised eyebrows. Derek only nods, reaching out for the zippo. He dumps the herb onto the glass and lights it on fire, quickly scooping the ash into his hand. With one final look at Stiles, he presses the wolfsbain into his wound, immediately screaming in pain.

"Derek!" Stiles panics, clutching his side for the few seconds he cries out before going limp. "Derek," he whispers this time, lightly shaking the beta. Stiles sends a worried glance to his best friend, who seems frozen as he stares at Derek's unmoving body.

Derek gasping makes both of the males jump.

"Are you okay? You're okay, right?" Stiles asks frantically, checking over Derek's body, that visibly looks completely healed. "I'm okay," he assures through an exhale, "Just a little weak." He sends a thankful nod to Scott, who returns it before exusing himself.

Stiles is still clutching Derek for dear life, staring at him like he's a ghost. "Stop that," Derek mumbles, "I'm fine."

"Fine?! You were like ten minutes away from death!" Stiles exclaims incredulously. "I just need to sleep it off," Derek says quietly, unable to keep up this act of anger, he's just too exhausted right now. Stiles sighs with a shake of his head. "Do you want me to take you home?"

"Yes."

"Alright, come on." Stiles helps him down the stairs and into the car, then starts the short trip to Derek's loft. They're silent the entire drive, and Derek is strugglingly to stay awake against the passenger window.

"Thanks...for tonight," Derek murmurs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Stiles stands in the doorway, bowing his head. "Just don't it again. You scared the crap out of me," Stiles admits. "No promises," Derek replies seriously, it's not like he wants to be put through this, it's just the shitty situation he's been in since childhood. "I know," Stiles breaths, "Just know I'll be there every single time and do everything I can to make sure you don't actually get yourself killed one of these days."

"You shouldn't put so much energy into saving me, Stiles, I've had a target on my back since the day I was born."

Stiles finally looks up, expression pulled into a tight glare. "Don't speak like you're already a dead man," Stiles basically shouts, "You've made it this far, and I'll be damned if someone gets to you before I fix this." Derek actually looks taken back by Stiles' words. He opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. The werewolf turns away in shame, because there's honestly nothing to say, not anything that will make Stiles feel better, at least.

"Goodnight, Derek," Stiles whispers this time, softly closing the metal door behind him.