Stiles ♕
ALTHOUGH he was sure Derek’s laugh was well-intended, it still felt like some sort of personal attack, leaving him grimacing. “Just help me,” he muttered, a hand on his injured shoulder as though pressure would help ease the pain. (It should be noted that it only made it worse.) The hand on his side led him to shudder, and he dropped his arm, averting his gaze while the werewolf pulled the shirt off of him. Despite what he took, it still hurt to an extent, and his arm felt numb when the fabric was finally off of him.
“Thanks.” His expression of gratitude was curt but genuine - he just didn’t have the energy to say more along those lines. “You know what’s one of the things I hate most? Hospitals.” Clearly, his effort was more set on complaints. “You know what’s almost as bad as hospitals?Antiseptic.” The list of things Stiles hated nowadays was long, not to mention increasing by the second, but those two things he’d mentioned sat at the very top of his list.
Despite his words, he made no attempt to avoid what seemed to be his fate, instead turning to glance towards his bed. “Do whatever, but I’m sitting down for this.” No need to be standingwhile someone wiped his wound with liquid fire. “It doesn’t need stitches, does it? You’re not allowed to stick needles in my skin - now or ever. We’ll never be good enough friends for that.” Hell, he wouldn’t have let Scott do that, back when they’d still been as close as ever.
MUTTERING was something Derek didn’t remember Stiles being capable of, and it certainly wiped any glimpse of smile from the werewolf’s face as he helped the boy out of his shirt entanglement. Dealing with this side of Stiles was new to him and honestly the young Hale was still trying to figure out the best way to do it.
He nodded to the word of gratitude and watched silently as the other complained about hospitals and antiseptics. Derek wasn’t a fan of hospitals himself, since they only remembered him of the days after his family died and he and Laura made Peter daily company until his sister decided they should leave to New York. Antiseptic was less of an issue; It’s not like he ever needed it for himself. “Noted. Consider yourself luck you will only need one of them now.”
What mattered now was the boy actually obliged to have his wound taken care of, even if he did so whilst complaining all the way. Derek still counted as a win. “You could be lying down for all I care, Stiles.” He said casually, following the boy to the bed once he got the kit. “I just want to be sure this bite doesn’t become a bigger problem for you later.” It seemed like the boy had enough problems already. “It doesn’t need.” Which was all he said on the matter, because he wasn’t sure Stiles would react well if the werewolf said that if the boy’s life depended on Derek sewing him up, he would do it with or without permission.
As soon as he had the antiseptic ready on clean cotton, he placed one hand near the bite, back to taking Stiles’ pain away. “Now relax. This will hurt me more than you.” And it did. The moment his other hand started cleaning the wound he felt the burning pain add up to the natural sorrow that came from the injure. It sucked, but he would rather have that then let Stiles feel the pain by himself. He had been where Stiles is. He was sure the boy felt like he deserved that pain.
And Derek taking it away whenever they touched was his silent way to say that no, he didn’t deserve.
