Never Leave Me (don’t do this to me)
This is for Teen Wolf 'Cest Appreciation Week Day 5 - Getting Together. Read it here on AO3 or watch out for the read more.
~*~*~
“Sir? Hello? Mr. Hale?” the kind voice called out from the phone, but Derek was frozen.
This couldn’t be happening. Peter was a werewolf, for god’s sake, there was no way the hospital would him call, telling him that Peter needed an emergency operation.
“You must have the wrong person,” Derek numbly said, because no. Peter wasn’t hurt enough to almost die.
“I’m sorry, are you Derek Hale?” the man asked, not for the first time, and Derek nodded.
“Yeah, I am, but it’s not—it can’t be Peter.”
“We have Peter Hale here,” the man tells him. “Mr. Hale, I recognize him from the long-term ward. He asked for you, so will you come?”
Derek stared into the distance, completely frozen until eventually someone slid the phone from his hand.
“Hi, hello, Stiles here, Stilinski, you know,” Stiles rambled into the phone, keeping one hand on Derek. “Derek’s not taking this so well, whatever you told him. Can you tell me?”
Derek heard the man tell Stiles the same things he told Derek, but it still didn’t make any more sense.
“Alright, thank you, sir, we’ll be there shortly.”
Stiles hung up and then completely faced Derek.
“Derek, I need you to keep it together. Do you want to go see Peter?”
“He’s not at the hospital, he can’t be. He’s a werewolf,” Derek said, voice trembling and thin, and Stiles nodded.
“Yes, he is, but he also just resurrected himself, so maybe it can be. Derek,” Stiles said again, voice hard and demanding Derek’s attention now, “do you want to go see him?”
“He can’t be at the hospital,” Derek choked out again, and Stiles frowned at him when he started to shake.
“Okay, big guy, come on. We’ll just go see him, alright?” Stiles asked, and carefully pulled Derek along after him.
“He can’t be hurt,” Derek muttered again.
“Derek, I think he is. And if that’s the case, he’d probably like for you to be there when he wakes up.”
Stiles gently pushed him into the jeep, keeping a soothing and steady commentary going, but Derek still felt like he would vibrate out of his skin. He knew, theoretically, that things like this could happen, but he never thought he would get a call like this.
Yes, werewolves could get hurt, seriously at that even, but never ever got a hospital involved. Derek has never even heard of a werewolf taking such a call because of another werewolf, and it just didn’t compute. Peter couldn’t be hurt.
It was not possible.
Derek belatedly realized that the jeep had stopped, that the hospital was already looming right in front of them, and when Derek turned his head towards the driver’s side, Stiles wasn’t there anymore.
Derek startled when a hand lightly gripped his arm.
“Come on, Derek. Let’s go find out how he’s doing, huh?” Stiles gently said and tugged on Derek’s arm, finally getting him to move.
“He’s not in there,” Derek lowly said, clinging to that thought because it couldn’t be.
“Let’s make sure, okay?” Stiles insisted and Derek finally stepped out of the jeep.
“He won’t be here.”
“And we will be so damn glad when they tell us exactly that,” Stiles gave back, but he was tense and clearly worried and Derek wanted to shake him, because there was no reason to be worried.
Peter was fine, somewhere that was not here.
Still, Derek followed close after Stiles, who immediately went to the emergency station.
“Hi, we’re looking for Peter Hale? This is Derek Hale, he got a call that his uncle was here,” he explained, and the nurse nodded at them.
“Yeah, I called you. He’s in the OR right now, and I can’t tell you how much longer it will take.”
Derek might have lost a few minutes, because the next thing he knew was that he was sitting on a hard, uncomfortable chair and Stiles was crouched in front of him.
“Panic attacks are no fun, huh?” he softly asked and briefly tightened his grip on Derek’s hands. “Are you with me, now?”
Derek jerkily nodded, and Stiles sighed, before he stood up and sat down next to Derek, never taking his hand away.
“It will be okay, Derek. He’s strong, and he didn’t resurrect himself to die now of whatever it was that happened to him,” Stiles told him, threading their fingers together and holding on tight.
Derek could hear his heart, knew that Stiles wasn’t even believing what he said, but he pushed that thought away. He preferred to believe the lie right now.
He couldn’t say how long they sat there, but Stiles got up twice to get coffee and call his dad, but Derek didn’t move at all. No one came over to tell them any news, and the nurse kept throwing them sympathetic glances, but that was about it.
Whenever Stiles came back, he immediately reached out for Derek’s hand again, and Derek gladly took it. It was the only hold he had right now, and he wasn’t willing to let go of it. His only remaining family was behind these doors and Derek didn’t know how he was doing, if he would survive and Derek immediately pushed that thought away.
Peter couldn’t die.
Stiles was dozing at his side when finally a doctor came towards them. Derek elbowed Stiles awake, because he couldn’t do this on his own, and Stiles jerked as he woke up.
“What?” he mumbled, but his gaze sharpened when he saw the doctor.
“How is he doing?” Stiles immediately asked the doctor, and Derek was grateful.
He couldn’t have done it, too afraid of the answer.
“He was in a very critical condition when he got here, but we managed to stabilize him. He should be fine, barring any complications that could still arise,” the doctor courtly told them, and Derek could smell the exhaustion on her.
“Can we see him?” Stiles asked and her gaze flicked back and forth between Derek and Stiles.
“That’s his nephew,” Stiles explained. “He’s not taking the news too well,” Stiles bluntly added and immediately the doctor softened.
“Yeah, of course. He’s in room 57. You can go see him, but he’s still asleep and will stay that way for the rest of the night, I think.”
“Thank you,” Stiles gratefully told her, when Derek still didn’t say anything.
“You want to go see him? Make sure he’s okay?” Stiles asked Derek once the doctor was gone, and Derek managed to at least nod at that.
He wouldn’t believe this was really happening until he could see Peter with his own eyes. By now he thought that if Peter was alive, if he would just be alive when Derek finally laid eyes on him, then it would be all okay.
“Good,” Stiles said with an encouraging smile and tugged Derek along again, clearly knowing his way around.
Derek froze again in front of the room, and Stiles jerked when he wanted to continue on, but Derek stopped dead in his tracks and didn’t let go of Stiles.
“I can’t go see him,” Derek choked out and Stiles turned towards him.
“Derek, he’s right behind that door, and he would probably really like to have you at his side.”
“He can’t—I don’t know—we don’t get sick, Stiles. We don’t get hurt like this. I don’t know how to handle this.”
“Do you think he does? Don’t you think it will be super scary for him to wake up, injured and hurting and in a place he should never even be in, without his family at his side?”
“I can’t lose him,” Derek whispered, and he could feel his eyes burning.
“I get that, Derek. But he can’t wake up and not have you at his side.”
Derek took a shaky breath, and then finally allowed Stiles to open the door to Peter’s room.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. Peter’s scent was there, but it was almost overpowered by disinfectant and the distinct smell of a serious injury.
“Oh god,” Derek almost sobbed out and rushed to Peter’s bedside, hands hovering unsurely over his uncle’s body.
There was a thick white bandage around his middle, and Peter was hooked up to several machines.
The sight was terrifying, and made everything real, frighteningly so, and Derek couldn’t help the tears that rolled down his cheeks.
“Peter,” he whispered and carefully brushed his fingers over Peter’s temple.
He didn’t get a response, Peter was still asleep after all, but it was a natural sleep and not an induced one, Derek could tell by the smell. His hands where shaking and he quickly snatched them away, unwilling to disturb Peter in any way.
When Stiles stepped up behind him, Derek pressed close to him.
“It always looks worse when they are asleep,” Stiles whispered and squeezed Derek’s hand again. “It will be better when he’s awake.”
Derek tried not to think about how Stiles knew that, why he knew his way around the hospital so well, and instead he clung to his hand.
“Don’t leave,” Derek begged, and Stiles smiled at him.
“No worries, big guy. I’m right here.”
Stiles dragged a second chair closer to the bed, and then gently bullied Derek into sitting down. Derek didn’t want to let go of Stiles’ hand, but he reached out for Peter with his other hand; he was too afraid to take his hand, unused to the sight of needles at the back of it and so he instead gently rested his hand on Peter’s arm.
It would help him, let him know that Derek was there, that his pack was there if Peter still considered them that, and he could only hope that it was enough. He could only hope that this would be enough to not remind Peter of his time during the coma.
Derek felt his eyes burn again, could feel a yawn threatening to take over, but he clenched his jaw. He refused to sleep, at least until he knew if Peter truly was okay.
Stiles didn’t have the same hang-ups, apparently, because shortly after they sat down, Stiles’ head lolled towards Derek’s shoulder. Derek could hear him snore softly just a few minutes later. He pulled Stiles closer, resting him more comfortably against his side, because Stiles didn’t deserve to get a crick in his neck just because he was staying by Derek’s side when he didn’t have to.
Derek dozed off eventually, too tightly wound up to really fall asleep, but when Peter slightly shifted in his bed, Derek was immediately awake again.
“Peter?” he carefully asked and was rewarded with Peter’s eyes fluttering open.
“Derek,” he croaked out and Derek will forever deny the fact that he immediately started crying.
“I’m here, Peter, I’m here,” he reassured him, carefully cupping his cheek in his hand. “I’m right here.”
Peter nodded, and then promptly dropped off again, clearly put at ease with the knowledge that Derek was there.
“He okay?” Stiles drowsily asked and Derek let out a long breath.
“He’s alive,” Derek gave back, too relieved to care that Stiles could probably see the tear tracks on his face.
“Awesome,” Stiles mumbled, and Derek gently nudged him.
“Go home, Stiles. We’ll be fine.”
“Nope,” Stiles replied, and curled up into the chair more comfortably and then immediately fell asleep again.
Derek couldn’t help but be grateful for his continued presence.
~*~*~
Derek woke up to the feeling of fingers sliding through his hair.
“What?” he mumbled and then jerked upright when he finally remembered where he was. “Peter,” he breathed out.
“I’m here, pup,” he said, voice breaking with disuse.
“Never, ever do that again to me!” Derek said, voice breaking around the words and Peter’s face softened.
“I’m sorry I scared you, darling.”
“How the hell did you end up here?” Derek wanted to know, and just hoped that Peter didn’t notice just how badly his hands were shaking again.
“The resurrection,” Peter shortly said. “It made me weaker than I thought. I was careless.”
“Never do this to me again,” Derek sobbed out and Peter carded his fingers through Derek’s hair again.
“I’ll try, sweetheart.”
“I love you, I can’t lose you,” Derek whispered, almost too afraid to say the words but Peter let out a contented sigh at that.
“I love you too, pup. I’m sorry I scared you,” Peter repeated and then gently tugged Derek up, and Derek went easily.
The kiss was soft and brief, just a gentle brush of their lips but Derek hummed with how happy he was.
“I’m glad to see you’re doing better,” came Stiles dry voice from besides them and Derek jerked back, but Peter kept his hand on Derek.
“I will be fine,” Peter said, and Stiles sighed.
“Good, because I hate to see Derek this sad and scared.”
“Same,” Peter replied, throwing a small smile towards Derek, who could feel the telltale’s signs of a blush on his cheeks.
“Then don’t get hurt again,” Derek admonished Peter.
“I’ll try, darling.”
“Alright, coffee, anyone?” Stiles asked and got up and walked out of the room before either Peter or Derek could reply.
“He’s a strange one,” Peter observed, though he sounded more fond than anything.
“That he is,” Derek agreed, “but I couldn’t have done this tonight without him.”
“I am sorry,” Peter reiterated.
“I know that,” Derek sighed and leaned over to kiss Peter again, and then again and again, reveling in the fact that he could.
“I’ll be healed up faster than you will know,” Peter reassuringly said and then pulled Derek onto the bed with him.
Derek was careful to not get tangled up in the wires that were still connected to Peter, but once he cleared them all, he curled up against Peter’s chest, keeping off his still bandaged wound and rested his head on Peter’s shoulder.
Peter put his arm around Derek’s shoulder, pressing his lips to his temple and Derek was asleep before Stiles was even back.
It had been a long night after all.
