Chapter Text
Derek feels oddly calm, considering what had just happened. Heartbeat still pounding in his ears, he focuses on the retreating footsteps, listening as their attackers barrel through fallen leaves and discarded branches, with none of their previous care.
His breathing is rapidly returning to normal, fangs and claws long gone, his senses gradually come back, becoming aware of just how hot it really is to fight in a leather jacket. A soft curse somewhere behind him catches his attention, the familiarity of the voice creasing his eyebrows as he turns.
Just in time to see Stiles, blood seeping through the fingers clutching his side, wobble a little as his eyes flutter. He's by his side in an instant, a growl rippling through him as he catches Stiles' limp body before he collapses into the dirt.
The scent of blood overwhelms his senses and his eyes switch to burning red, claws barely restrained as he shifts Stiles to pick him up properly.
Even with supernatural strength, Stiles is always alarmingly light and easy to pick up, if you can bear the cursing and wriggling. But tonight, he folds easily into Derek's arms, not protesting at all as he's lifted into an effortless bridal carry.
There's no snark, no attitude, no ineffectual hits as he's tucked into Derek's hold. He's just pliable and bleeding, breath catching as he grips more at the deep slash to his side. Through the burning anger overloading his instincts, Derek faintly notices tear tracks cutting through the dust on his cheeks.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone approaching, reacting entirely on instinct, completely to the mercy of his wolf. He curls closer around Stiles, tightening his grip on the boy as he growls, low and menacing. He has Stiles in his arms, safe, and no one is going to take him, not while he's bleeding and crying.
Scott is wise enough to take a step back when Derek fucking growls at him. He takes a moment to reevaluate the situation, hands still up in front of him as if calming a wild animal. Which, to be honest, is pretty accurate.
Derek may not actually be shifted yet, but they can all see that it's only barely. Realistically, the thing most likely holding him back is the injured human currently cradled in his arms. Even deep down, his wolf still knows that Stiles is fragile.
Fragile. God, they need an ambulance. "Does anyone have their phone?" Scott keeps his voice quiet, taking a couple more steps back just to be safe. Even carrying a body, Derek could still do some damage.
Lydia, who seemingly has unlimited cell service, makes the call, calm, and carefully vague. After she's given them their location and a brief rundown of the basic situation, she offers the phone to Scott.
"What?"
"Well, I figure you should be the one to call his father."
Scott takes the phone from her waiting hand, "Do we have to tell his dad?"
She studies him with an expression on her face like she can't tell if he's being intentionally dumb, "Yes. Do you really want him to find out through whatever deputy they send?"
Lydia doesn't wait for an answer before she walks away, thankfully hearing the sound of dialling as she does. Keeping a safe distance from the defensive alpha, she assesses what little she can see of the wound, answering Isaac's worried questions with a measured tone.
She's mostly repeating the same information, that he's still conscious and moving, but it seems to reassure the young beta, and a gives her something to do other than being completely useless.
Thanks to wolfy hearing, they have an alert well before the sound of sirens reaches them, a distant reassurance that spreads through the pack.
Even as the sirens come closer, the rest of the pack remains tense and restless, pacing and making forced conversation. They all purposefully avoid voicing the main concern, why Derek is practically feral, instead focusing on exactly how they're going to explain this all.
When the ambulance finally arrives, with a Beacon Hills sheriffs car along side it, the Derek situation has improved only mildly. His eyes are no longer alarming alpha red, but he still has a firm grip on a barely conscious Stiles.
It seems he's still just teetering on the edge of control though, even baring his teeth when they try to take the softly whimpering boy out of the safe cradle of his arms. A voice in the back of Scott's head that sounds faintly like Stiles wishes he'd got that on camera.
*****
Stiles is trembling, weak hands clutching at Derek's shirt in a way that would embarrass him if he weren’t currently in blinding pain, thank you very much. The alpha had caught him almost immediately, moving faster than he could see, and honestly, he's glad to escape yet another head injury.
He can't seem to let go of the pitiful grip, but that's okay, because Derek hasn't set him down yet. He will. But for now, the full body support is immensely comforting, not to mention the pain Derek is draining.
Stiles is completely aware, somewhere in his mind, that Derek is probably begrudgingly holding him just to placate him until the emergency services arrive, stop him from whining about how much it hurts. Keep holding the human because he's so desperate and weak, and would bitch about it otherwise.
He knows that Derek would never willingly hold him longer than necessary, but then he sees flashing lights and paramedic uniform, and Derek is still holding him, in fact, his grip has tightened, and- was that? Yeah. Derek just growled. At a fucking paramedic. A faint tick of amusement drifts through his mind.
He may have to reevaluate his statement.
*****
The paramedics, a little disturbed at the animalistic growl that came from the taller one, the kids called him Derek, manage to practically herd him into the ambulance. He still has his friend, Stiles, in his arms, but there wasn't much they could do about that.
Ultimately, they figured that since the rest of the people at the scene, including the one that called it in, only seem surprised, and not at all worried, that this is clearly someone they’re familiar with, maybe he's just a little overdramatic.
Besides, as soon as the adrenaline of having his friend injured wears off he’ll let go, because a human, even a small one like this gangly boy, is quite heavy after a while.
Their wishful thinking goes unfulfilled.
For the entire ride back to the hospital, Derek keeps Stiles in his arms, a secure but not restrictive hold. He lets them treat Stiles, watching their every move with burning eyes, allowing them to move the boy barely, just enough to reach the slash.
When they finally reach the hospital, doors pulled open by the waiting staff, he simply stands. Stiles is still in his arms, and he shows no fatigue, no sign of stopping and letting them do their damn jobs.
Derek steps down, ignoring the stretcher that was brought, slowly tensing up at the crowd of people around them. Nose finally clearing of the air of blood and disinfectant, he catches a familiar scent.
It's one that is sometimes mixed with Stiles', a non-threatening and strangely comforting scent, and he focuses enough to see Melissa push through the crowd.
She approaches calmly, quickly taking over for the very confused paramedics, giving some explanation that Derek doesn't hear, still fine tuned to Stiles. His heart rate hasn't changed since they injected him with the sedative.
After she finishes with them, she directs Derek to an empty room, being careful not to touch either of them, which Derek appreciates, since he really doesn’t want to end up apologising for accidentally mauling her.
She closes the door behind them and moves over to close the blinds, keeping her movements obvious and steady. "Derek. I'm going to need you to put him down."
He really can't help the growl. It just sort of happens.
Melissa pulls back the thin sheet of the hospital bed, still not reaching towards either of them, "I know, but if you want him to be okay, you're gonna have to let us look at him." She catches his eyes and stands her ground, "You can stay with him the whole time."
His grip relaxes, just slightly, but his wolf is still firmly against letting go.
"Either you do this willingly, or I will sedate you as well. I have weird herbs that I'm not afraid to use." Her eyes turn soft once more, "And if you're sedated, you can't keep watch."
Finally, he relents, gently and slowly setting Stiles on the bed. He handles the smaller with care, moving him with startlingly light hands. A long brewing suspicion comes to the forefront of Melissa's mind at the scene, and as she watches Derek brush back Stiles' hair, she realises she'll be collecting on that bet a lot sooner than she thought.