We have ways of making you talkâŠ
âHiiiiiii,â Derek said happily, when Isaac broke down the door, and he and Scott and Stiles burst into the room. âIâm chained up!â
Stiles looked at Scott, who looked at him, and then they both looked at Isaac, who was too taken aback to even blink, apparently. Derek was indeed chained up. Again.
That wasnât the surprising part.
âIâm really glad to see you,â Derek said, rolling his head against the fence. He was barefoot and dirty, and he was slurring his words just enough to be noticeable, but there was no blood anywhere Stiles could see. âAre you glad to see me?â
âWeâre, um, yes?â Scott said, like he wasnât entirely sure.
âWeâre really, really glad to see you,â Isaac said, in the tone of voice youâd use to talk to a little kid. âArenât we, guys?â He shot threatening looks at Stiles and Scott.
âRight, yes,â Stiles said immediately as Scott said, âAbsolutely! Super glad!â
âAre you all right?â Isaac asked Derek, taking a wary step closer. They were all off balance now, unsure of what theyâd walked into.
âNo,â Derek said petulantly. âI want to hug you but I canât.â He frowned and tugged against the manacles on his wrists. âYouâre my best friends in the whole world.â
âI think heâs okay,â Scott said after a long, awkward silence. âExcept. You know.â He made a vague gesture at Derek, who didnât seem to be hurt, specifically. Just veryâŠun-Derek-like.
âWe shouldâwe donât have much time,â Stiles reminded everyone, but it still took a few more seconds for someone to move, all of them completely thrown by the way Derek was acting. Theyâd been prepared for gore, for carnage, maybe for a dead body. They hadnât been prepared for this.
âI was hoping Stiles would come,â Derek said dreamily, eyes fixed on him while Scott started on the manacles with a bolt cutter.
âAnd here I am,â Stiles said unnecessarily, throwing his hands out in a little flourish before he awkwardly shoved them in his jacket pockets. Derekâs dirty, beaming face was freaking him out.
The last manacle came apart under the bolt cutters and hit the floor next to Derekâs bare toes with a loud clang. âI care about you guys so much,â Derek gushed, slumping over into Isaacâs arms.
âThis is way worse than I imagined,â Scott said under his breath, shaking his head.
âGuys, Iâm serious. We gotta go,â Stiles said. Theyâd already been here too long, and every little noise was making him jump.
âStiles says we gotta go,â Derek muttered. âStiles is always bossing me around and I like it.â
âOh my God,â Stiles said faintly, into the shocked silence. Isaac looked like he was trying not to laugh. Scott was looking at Derek like heâd grown a second head.
âYou are so stoned, man,â Isaac said, shaking his head, and Derek promptly launched into another repetition of Iâm so glad you guys are here. Isaac propped him up while Scott slipped his shirt over his head, both of them humming agreement to every single one of Derekâs declarations of love and happiness.
There were some syringes, most of them empty, one of them still full of a cloudy yellow liquid, scattered on the floor. Stiles grabbed the full one and carefully put it in his pocket while Scott and Isaac helped Derek into his shoes.
When they finally got him out to the Cruiser, it looked like Derek was going to get in willingly enough, until he saw Stiles head for the driverâs seat, at which point he balked, bracing his arms against the door frame like a cat trying to avoid the kitty carrier. âI want you to ride in the back with me, Stiles,â he said, refusing to budge. âI missed you.â
Stiles paused, hand on the door handle, and wondered how this shit kept happening to him. He wanted to bang his head against the Cruiserâs window, but that wouldnât help anyone. âPlease stop talking,â he begged Derek. âJust get in, okay?â
Derek glared at him, and for one reassuring second it was like the real Derek was back, until he said, âYouâre hurting my feelings.â
âJesus Christ,â Scott said, with feeling.
âFine!â Stiles hissed, because shouting was a bad idea when you were escaping with someoneâs prisoner. He marched around to the back door and handed the keys to Scott.
Appeased, Derek caught the front of Stiles jacket in his grubby hand and held on as he got in, practically dragging Stiles with him. As soon as Stilesâ butt hit the seat, Derek was right there, pressed against his side, trying to burrow under his arm.
âYou need to put your seat belt on,â Stiles protested, shoving at him to no avail. âSafety first!â
Derek scoffed at the idea of a seatbelt as he wormed a little closer and put his head under Stilesâ chin. âI want to sit by you,â he said stubbornly. âYou smell nice. I like you. I want to touch you. I think about you when Iââ
âOkay!â Stiles yelled, slapping his hand down over Derekâs mouth before he could finish that horrifying sentence. âI think I get it.â
Stiles fully expected to get bitten, but instead Derek gently took his hand and tugged it away. He didnât let go, just rubbed his thumb over the knob of Stilesâ wrist as he lifted his head so he could stare into Stilesâ eyes. Isaac was rightâDerek was completely stoned. His eyes were almost all pupil.
âDo you?â Derek asked Stiles earnestly. âDo you really get it?â
âI think heâs gonna get it,â Isaac snorted up front.
"Youâre not helping,â Scott gritted out as he started the engine. He didnât look happy to suddenly be the getaway driver, but tough luck. Stiles was the one dealing with the real problem here.
Derek was still waiting for an answer, with wide eyes and a painfully open expression on his face. Stiles swallowed and said, âCan weâif I promise weâll talk about this once weâre alone will you stop? Will you please stop?â Derek was twining their fingers together, Stiles realized, aghast. âJust wait until weâre alone, okay?â
âOkay,â Derek said, and put his head back on Stilesâ shoulder and didnât say another word until they got to his place.
He held Stilesâ hand the whole time.
