Chapter Text
Stiles woke up slowly, peeling his eyelids open. He was in his room at the Hale House. Dull light was shining through the windows, and his dad had pulled up a chair beside the bed. He was grasping Stiles’ hand, which was thankfully covered, and resting with his head at an awkward angle on the mattress.
He looked around his room. All seemed to be in place, if a little tidier than normal. He stared for a moment, but nothing was coming back to him.
His whole body had gone tense, and that small movement was enough to make the sheriff raise his head and blink at Stiles, before realizing what he was seeing.
“Oh my god,” he half sobbed. “Stiles.”
Stiles smiled weakly. “Hey,” he tried to say, but his throat was like sandpaper and it came out rough.
His dad squeezed his hand. There were tear tracks down his face. The bags under his eyes and his messed-up hair sent a message loud and clear; his dad hadn’t properly taken care of himself in days.
“What happened?” Stiles rasped.
“There was an accident,” his dad choked out. “I nearly lost you.”
Stiles blinked. He jerked up violently, throwing the blankets off of his body. His father stumbled away from him at the sudden movement but Stiles was staring, eyes clouded, at his legs. Perfectly healed. He remembered with a shudder the way that his legs had been barely tied together.
And then Derek. Derek.
Stiles scrambled out of bed, his legs wobbling beneath his weight, like a newborn fawn. He stumbled to the door, ignoring his dad’s warnings, and threw it open. He took another step but his legs caved and he hit his knees on the rough wooden floor.
Erica appeared around the corner of the hallway, staring down at her phone. Her hair was mussed and her face make-up free. It was clear she hadn’t come to check up on him, and he wondered how long he’d been out. “Erica,” Stiles rasped.
Her head snapped up and there was a clattering noise as she dropped her phone. “Oh my god,” she breathed. “Talia!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Then she was running at him and dropping to her knees too, letting the glide of her sweatpants carry her the last few feet. Careful to keep from touching his face, she wrapped her arms around him.
Stiles didn’t know what to do about this new development. He gingerly patted her on the back, glancing at his dad. The sheriff only shrugged.
Talia appeared next in a brisk walk, wrapping a silky robe around herself with her husband and Laura on her heels. Her face broke into a grin that somehow made her look years younger. Excitement lit up Laura’s eyes and Frederick beamed at him.
“Stiles, you’re awake!” Erica had finally released him and she jerked him up so he was standing, then took her turn wrapping him in a hug. “We were starting to worry.”
“Yes, we were all very worried,” Talia said. Laura stepped aside without needing to be told. Talia stepped into Stiles’ space. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.” She let her pretty face morph into a smiling one and put a hand on his cheek. He jumped, but the skin on his felt surprisingly good.
He began to see why the others looked at Talia as a mother figure. When she looked at you with warmth in her eyes and grin on her face, doing a soft and intimate gesture, it was hard to remember what this place was for, and who Talia was.
“I have to get Lydia,” Erica breathed, still breathless. She darted down the hallway, quick as lightning.
“And Derek,” Laura said. She ran as well, rounding the opposite corner Erica had.
Lydia appeared first, her hair in a messy bun. She was looking at Stiles as if he were Disney World and she was a six year old.
She also hugged him. This was beginning to feel like the Twilight Zone.
When she pulled back, he noticed all the little things he’d missed. Her eyes were smudged with purple underneath and she was looking paler than usual. Her lips were cracked, as if she’d been biting them until they bled and scarred over.
Then Derek came jogging after Laura and stopped at the end of the hallway. Stiles felt all his breath leave him.
He was hit by a flashback. Vividly, he saw a hand, warm and living, come to rest on his stomach. Derek’s perfect face had healed over. He briefly regained consciousness to look down at his legs, which were fine.
He had been staring into Derek’s eyes.
Suddenly the vision broke, because Derek was approaching him the way he would a wild, skittish rabbit. “Stiles,” he said.
Stiles’ heart broke at the way Derek’s voice cracked when he said his name. When they crashed together, pulled to each other in a violent way, a weight lifted from Stiles’ shoulders.
Derek didn’t avoid Stiles’ skin, because now they knew which one of Deaton’s theories were right. Derek rubbed his rough cheek on Stiles, everywhere from the hollow of his throat up to his cheek. A hand buried into his hair and Stiles melted against him at the way it felt.
I think I have a hair pulling kink, Stiles thought absently.
Stiles was also taking advantage of all the skin in front of him that he could touch, ripping off his gloves and running his hands up and down Derek’s bare arms, then all over his face. He pulled him closer so there was almost just one, one person, instead of two.
Stiles moved his head in just a way that had his lips brush against Derek, and the spell was broken.
Derek placed his hands on Stiles’ shoulders and put him at arm's length. Stiles made a sound of protest. He wanted Derek to surround him.
“Stiles,” Lydia said, swiping at her cheek. She had started crying. “We didn’t know if you would wake up.”
He furrowed his brow and looked at all the faces in front of him, before setting his eyes on his dad. “How long was I out?” he breathed. His voice broke over the words, his throat sore from not being used.
“Tomorrow would’ve been a week,” his dad informed him, a sorrowful expression painted across his face.
“But I’m- I mean- look-” Stiles sputtered, trying to find the words that alluded him. “I’m alive!” he finally exclaimed. “I’m fine! I’m better than fine, I feel great.”
“I don’t know how much you remember,” Talia said. “But Derek risked contact to save you. You can touch each other.” She shook her head. “You would’ve died if Derek hadn’t chosen to risk his life.”
Derek was looking embarrassed about being called out, and Laura hauled back and punched him in the arm. “You could’ve died too,” she growled.
His lips thinned and he avoided everyone’s gaze.
Lydia handed Stiles his discarded gloves, which he tugged on only so he could hug his dad again and wrap an arm around Lydia’s frail shoulders.
“It’s early, but…” Talia glanced at the others. Her expression was warm and loving, and reminded Stiles of his mother’s. “Let’s get everyone up. An early breakfast.”
Grins and laughter traveled through their small group, and then the girls were running to get the others and Laura went to fetch her husband and Peter. Talia started to knock on the boy’s door.
Derek stood there, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. He was eyeing the hallway like he was about to make a break for it, but the sheriff stopped him, stepping into his path.
“You saved my son,” his dad said in a broken voice, the kind of voice you could tell had been through rough sobs. “I have no idea how I could possibly repay you.”
Derek looked around, anywhere but at Stiles’ father. Stiles silently chuckled to himself. “You don’t have to repay me,” Derek finally said.
Stiles’ dad put a firm hand on his shoulder. Derek eyed it like it was a venomous snake, but his dad didn’t care. “Thank you, son.” The sheriff sniffled, and then pretended like he hadn’t.
There was a tense moment of silence, and then all Hell broke loose.
Metaphorically. All the girls in the house rounded the corner, the boys finally burst through their doorway with Talia ushering them out, and Laura was leading the last of the adults into the hallway. Everything very quickly descended into chaos.
For some reason, everyone wanted to hug him or give him a very manly shoulder check. Stiles stood there, clutching his dad’s arm, not quite sure what to do with all this sudden affection.
“Hi!” said a pretty asian girl, shorter than Stiles and completely unrecognizable. He wondered for a moment if he had lost his mind.
“I’m Kira,” she said. “I’m sort of new.”
“Oh yeah, Lydia and Malia were fighting over who had to give up their room. Who won?”
She sighed. “Malia, technically, but Lydia has a lot of visions and there’s a lot of screaming. I’m testing the waters with Malia, seeing if it would be that bad to room with her.”
Before Stiles could reply, she was shuffled out of the way by Cora, who wasn’t doing her usual scowl and actually looked pretty pleased to see him.
When Laura came through for her third hug, he spoke up, loudly to be heard. “Okay, not that I’m not flattered at all the love, but most of you hate me.”
Surprisingly, it was Peter who answered. “We were afraid of you, but now it's different. You saved Derek's life. And then Lydia lectured us on what a good person you are.”
Stiles nodded. “Okay, that makes sense, but I-” He was going to explain that he hadn’t saved Derek, but caught his eye through the crowd. Derek minutely shook his head, such a tiny gesture that no one would see if they weren’t looking him dead in the face.
“But you…?” Laura prompted.
He ducked his head and smiled at the floor. He looked up and knew the reason they had warmed to him was a lie, but it felt so… freeing. And good. “I’m just overwhelmed,” he said. Stiles looked back up, tears clouding his vision. “I’m just happy, I guess.”
And it was true. The warmth in their eyes and the glint of teeth, visible from their smiles, made him happy. His father standing at his side, Lydia taking up the other. The only thing that brought him down to the ground was Derek hovering on the edges, pointedly avoiding Stiles’ eyes, and the question that bugged him.
Why had Derek lied?