A small chuckle made it’s way out of Stiles’ mouth and into the open air. “Course they do, homie, dude, bro, homedog? That’s totally radical?” He added in an astonishingly bad impression of a Californian accent. Coughing slightly he shifted his weight from foot to foot he realised what a moron he must look. “Nah only complete idiots do that. Like me for instance. So anyway you were going to tell me your name so I could get an ambulance and not let you bleed to death in this alley??” As soon as the guy, well Dean spoke his name he saw the look on his face. A mix between relief and regret. He had also knew that look too well to know that it wasn’t good. It was only full of pain and the hope that there could be a way out of it, a way through the hurt. He knew that all too well. There was also a dull feeling rumbling around Stiles’ brain as if there was something was missing, as if there wasn’t something he wasn’t remember. The name was familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. He was probably a male model or something. Someone too important to bleed out in an alley anyways.
Then he saw Dean try to haul himself up on his own trying to prop himself up against the wall and try to get up unsuccessfully. He had to give the guy some credit for that though, he certainly was a fighter. He heard him groan again and spit out a “son of a bitch” between his labored breaths. He knew if he called an ambulance now Dean would have a slim chance of surviving. Stiles also knew that he had to take matters into his own hands. Quite literally. “Right okay, I gotta get you to my jeep so just hold on. As soon as I get you in the car we’re gonna go straight to the hospital since an ambulance would take too long. Plus you can’t try any heroics like that again if you want to survive this. Keep the pressure on. And before you give me any funny looks I’m stronger than I look.” He said remembering the two hours he spent keeping Derek Hale from drowning in his school pool. Stiles huffed offering a hand to the mysterious guy he hardly knew. The man with the familiar name and bright green eyes. His brain was just constantly coming back to one single thought. Who is this Dean Winchester?
Dean warily watched the kid’s hand - he didn’t have the time to do any tests, didn’t know who the kid was…hell, the didn’t even know the kid’s name. But he had to trust him. He didn’t have much choice. With every instinct in his body telling him not to do it, to not forget everything he’d ever been taught, he took the offered hand. He mutely nodded in agreement to the other’s terms, letting the kid help him to his feet and groaning as he let up the pressure on his abdomen for a second, quickly reapplying it.
“How far away is your jeep?” He asked, really hoping that he wasn’t going to have to walk too far to get to it. It was going to hurt like a bitch if it was a few streets away. He really wished he had some alcohol or something so that the pain would numb, but sadly he could do nothing but grit his teeth and keep going.
He could tell Dean was questioning his hand, looking at it and trying to figure out all the possibilities but hell he couldn’t criticize the guy. He’d probably do the same if the situation was reversed. Yet oddly enough Dean accepted his hand and Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He was just thankful this guy had enough braincells to trust him. “It’s just round the corner. A couple more steps and we’ll probably be able to see her.” he said offering his best reassuring smile to Dean. He kept his arm tightly round the guy trying to take as much weight off him as possible. He could very plainly see Dean was trying to mask the fact that he was struggling yet was still plowing on anyway. “You must really love that brother of yours” Stiles said before a grin sneaked its way back onto his face.
There she was! That beautiful blue piece of crap was finally within reach. “I can see the car Dean, we’re gonna get there.” Stiles puffed still heaving Dean with him. He dove his other hand into his jeans pockets and plucked the keys out as fast as possible. Shoving his keys into the lock and opening the car up he took his time to think. He gently let Dean slide into the passenger seat before rushing round to the other side. They were gonna make it. They were actually gonna make it. He finally let out a sigh of relief before starting up the engine and hearing it’s familiar purr. Then realization set in, he still hadn’t told the poor guy his name. He turned his head to look at the green-eyed bleeding Dean Winchester in his passenger seat before opening his mouth with a slight grin. “My name’s Stiles Stilinski and I think I can safely say that this has been one of the weirdest meetings of my life.”
“This is your car?” Dean asked, less than impressed with the hunk of junk he was being helped into. The thing was covered in rust and flakey paint…he supposed the kid couldn’t afford much else, but…but c’mon! Even the inside was a mess - empty wrappers everywhere. He was too used to the relative cleanliness of the Impala and her sleek beautiful design to like or appreciate a car like this. Then again, it was this hunk of junk that might make the difference between life and death…maybe he should follow one of his own basic ground rules and, as the person sitting in shotgun, shut his cakehole about it.
And Stiles? That was one of the weirdest names he’d ever heard. It had to be a nickname or something - there was no way he’d been born as Stiles. “I’ve had weirder,” he replied, resisting the urge to shrug - that would only cause endless pain for him. Besides, he had; this didn’t even hit his top ten when it came to strange and unusual meetings. If anything, this was practically normal, which was…well, that was very very bad. In no circumstance should it be normal for him to meet someone while covered in blood and potentially dying.
“So…Stiles,” the name felt odd and clunky on his tongue, but he managed to get it out anyway, “Not to rush you or anything, but I’m kinda getting blood all over your upholstery so do you mind starting the car?” He prompted, raising an eyebrow as the kid grinned at him. Full out grinned. Like he wasn’t even fazed by the total stranger bleeding out all over his seats. In fact, he looked weirdly at ease with the whole situation. Dean didn’t have much right to judge, but he hypocritically thought it was pretty odd.
"No it's my spaceship that I normally steer with my mind" Stiles muttered the comment with an eyeroll before realizing that being rude to someone who may or may not be mortally wounded in his front seat probably isn't the best or nicest thing he's done. Also if he didn't stop messing about then a certain mortally wounded guy might just bleed out and become a corpse on his front seat and that would be a real bitch to explain to his dad. "Sorry" he mumbled, cringing at his sarcasm at this serious time.
Stiles was already to jam his keys in and start the car but he was thrown off with how casually Dean had reacted to his name. Sure Stiles had some weird reactions to his name in the past but this was definitely one of the weirder times. To be fair Stiles was pretty sure if he was to tell the guy his full name (awful middle names and all) the reaction would be pretty different. Still no jokes or quips or even questions about it? Actually his usual prepared statement of "It's a nickname, my real name sounds like a sneeze" didn't even have to leave his tongue.
"Dammit focus Stiles" he stammered under his breath. Nevermind the weird reaction to his name and his weird feeling about Dean, this guy was bleeding out on his seats as he'd liked to point out. Even although all of this he was still smirking while he shoved his keys into the ignition. He had done this so many times now that it was a common feeling to have a bleeding passenger in his car although normally the passenger would have super wolfie healing powers. "You're lucky my dad's a cop, no speeding tickets" Stiles added, still grinning as his foot his the gas. They were gonna make it.
