Picture this. Stiles goes in charging. Bat swinging. Whatever big bad was in the way is now broken and bloody. Thing is, so is Stiles. He reaches Derek. Bleeding. Obviously tortured. The rest of the pack is there by the time Stiles has him standing. But that was the problem. Adrenaline just doesn't keep you upright. It Also dulls pain. So when he grunts, it's Derek's hands that hold him up despite him being hurt just as badly. The two of them look at each other and they both know that it was going to be a much longer conversation.
UGH, it’s always these two motherfuckers holding each other up isn’t it😩❤️
"Heeey, Sourwolf." Stiles smiles weakly. He stumbles forward a little and Derek tightens his grip on his waist. "You’re always there for me. So big and strong and…manly."
It’s the blood loss talking, probably. Derek has heard about that. He needs to tell them…they need to take Stiles…take him to…Where should they take him again?
He doesn’t know the word right now. Somewhere he doesn’t bleed so much.
"You need to stop bleeding so much," he manages, vision darkening at the corners.
He’s not on the ground anymore. He’s standing up. Stiles was holding him a moment ago. Are those his legs? They look weird. Knees are supposed to bend out, not…in?
"Derek," Stiles says sluggishly, "I don’t, uh—feel any pain."
Is that good or bad?
"I don’t want to give you any," he says. He can’t really tell if it makes sense or not. He thinks he can give pain—or take it maybe? But one thing feels very clear to him. "I don’t want you to feel pain, Stiles."
Stiles smiles and his eyelids flutter. "That’s so nice of you. Always knew you were nice."
Suddenly Stiles becomes heavier and his eyes are shut now. Derek can’t hold him up anymore, his stupid legs are bent and useless. He lets Stiles fall on top of him.
He’s still breathing. Where are the others? He needs to tell them…
Someone comes rushing through the trees.
"Stiles!"
It’s Scott. Derek knows Scott’s voice, and he’s happy that he’s here, even though he can’t see him. Everything is dark now.
"You have to take him to…his blood—”
"Derek, stay with me," Scott says.
"Please, he’s gonna run out."
"We’ve got him, Derek. Stiles is in an ambulance."
He can’t feel his legs anymore, and not Stiles’ weight against him either.
"Derek, he’s gonna be fine. You need to stay with me, man. Why are you not healing?"
Stiles is going to be fine. And he’s not in pain. Derek isn’t either.
All is well, he thinks as Scott’s voice grows distant and the forest floor rises and falls with him, like he’s on a ship far out on the ocean somewhere. It’s good out here. He wants to stay here.
He cries out at a sudden sickening pain in his arm and shoulder, like someone is trying to rip it off. It doesn’t stop, and the agony burns through him and makes him shift. He can see again.
"I’m sorry, man," Scott says. "I had to trigger it." He draws his claws out of Derek’s arm where they had been plunging and twisting.
Derek breathes harshly through the pain. After a while he can feel his joints and bones slowly shifting into place.
"Can you walk?"
He looks down at his knees. They still don’t look normal, but he could probably manage.
"Stiles," he says, voice rough.
"Stiles is in the hospital. They’re taking care of him. Let’s get you home."
"No," Derek says. "Hospital first."
It takes hours before they let him in to see Stiles. Scott had made him change his clothes, which was probably a good idea, seeing as they were drenched in his and Stiles’ blood and whatever goo from the creature Stiles had beaten to death.
Stiles is lying down in his hospital bed, propped up by a large pillow. He looks pale and weak, but he gives Derek a big dopey grin when he enters.
"Hey there, wolfman."
"Are you in pain?" Derek asks.
"Nope," Stiles grins, popping the p.
Derek sits down on the chair next to Stiles and takes his hand into his anyway.
"Thanks for holding me up," he says quietly.
Stiles gives a light squeeze, and his hand feels cold and limp in Derek’s.
"That’s what we do, big guy. You and me." Stiles closes his eyes for a moment and opens them again—soft and brown and beautiful.
"We hold each other up."
