we're painted red to fit right in

[triskehale]

They take a lot of back alleys to get Derek back to Dimera, managing to avoid being seen by too many people. They're covered in blood, Derek so much so that he looks like something out of a horror movie, but he has his arm slung over Dean's shoulder with Dean's fingers gripping his wrist while they stumble along, so that's good.

"Thank you," he gets out, because it needs to be said. There's been a definite shift in their relationship, from acquaintances to something like allies. "I think the bleeding's stopped."

He's still kind of weak but it's getting easier to walk straight. He feels vulnerable but Dean is there, and if he needed to, Derek could still fight.

He does his best not to get blood anywhere as they make their way into the building, because that's a memo from management that he just does not want to deal with. Once they're in the elevator, Derek reaches out to jab the button for his floor and dreams of his shower.

He's not leaning on Dean quite so heavily once he fishes his keys out of his pocket, but his arm is still around Dean's shoulders when he unlocks it and tumbles through, dragging Dean with him. Stiles is sitting on Derek's couch eating Dorito's and really, Derek should have expected this.

"Hey," he says, astonishingly casual.

Comments

[triskehale]

"Dean was killing vampires and I - ow." He jerks when the alcohol touches his wounds, hissing through his teeth. Stinging antiseptic isn't something he's used to. "I know Dean, alright? We kind of had a fight club thing in an alley to keep him from going into a BDSM club because he's dating a fallen angel now." Christ, this city is weird. Derek's woozy and out of it enough that he rambles, not bothering to censor the truth. He doesn't feel like he needs to hide it. "So we punched each other a lot so his boyfriend, Castiel the angel, wouldn't get upset. Did you know that Darrow has a BDSM club? Never go there."

He winces again and doesn't bother telling Stiles that this is probably pointless. If it makes him feel better, he can sting the fuck out of Derek. "I was on a run and I heard him, and he was in some abandoned warehouse taking on a dozen vampires because apparently they were draining teenagers. Teenagers, okay?"

He turns to look at Stiles after the last bit, sighing softly. "I won't die. I wouldn't leave you." He swallows and gives him a stern look. "But you can't die either, so if something is killing off your demographic, I'm taking it out."

[myonlydefense]

Stiles stares. "Jesus Christ, you're fucking delirious."

Or maybe not. He mentions Castiel, who Stiles knows. Kinda. A little bit. Like, the guy did whoosh him off to his apartment and all that. And was kinda weird. So the whole dating Dean Who Derek Has Fight Club With (what the fuck) isn't really the strangest thing that could happen. He guesses. The BDSM thing is news to him, though. Huh.

He ignores Derek parenting him and grumbles, cleaning at another wound on Derek's shoulder with the alcohol while he talks. "I can take care of myself, Derek. I haven't seen any vamp-- why the hell aren't you healing?" He stops what he's doing and looks up at Derek with a frown, concerned and grabbing Derek's chin, tilting his head from side to side like he's checking for... something. "Are you sick? Oh god, are you gonna turn into a vampire? Like a superwolfpire?"

[triskehale]

He lets Stiles manhandle him, happy enough just to have his hands on him after all he's been through. "I know that you can take care of yourself, but you leave the bloodthirsty supernaturals to me, alright?"

He sighs and lets Stiles continue his freak out. Superwolfpire, honestly. But hybrids do exist, at least in Hayley's world. "No, Dean got bit too. He said you have to drink their blood to turn."

But their blood is all over him, because he ripped their heads off with his bare hands. He stiffens and pushes Stiles away suddenly, out of instinct and fright. "You shouldn't be touching me. Their blood is on me."

Stiles not touching him anymore is the very last thing he wants, but he needs him to be safe. But something else Dean said flits through his haze and he sighs in relief. "No, you have to drink their blood and then another human's. But still, just be careful."

[myonlydefense]

"I wasn't planning on licking it off of you or feeding my insatiable thirst for human blood after, so I think we're good," he says, looking at Derek with a raised eyebrow before he moves to the wounds further down Derek's stupidly well defined torso. Like, really well defined. He shakes himself a little, because now isn't the time to go on an ADHD-induced zoning out on his friend's freakishly attractive, muscular body.

Yeah, he'll think about the implications of all that later.

"Why aren't you healing, Derek? If you're not healing, I don't know how much good me, a pad of gauze, and hydrogen peroxide are gonna do." He dresses a particularly ugly wound on his stomach, glaring at it.

[triskehale]

Derek's throat goes a little dry at lick it off of you, eyes flashing a quick red as he turns to look at Stiles. His hands on his stomach make him ache, make him hot all over, even in this condition.

"I am healing, see?" He takes Stiles' hand and moves up to his chest, just above his left nipple. The scratch marks are knitting together, edges pink and shiny. "I think it's like alpha wounds; they just take longer to heal because they came from something pretty powerful."

He presses Stiles' hand down until his palm is pressed against the healing scratches. "It's like that night outside the school, with Peter. That took almost a week to heal once I dragged myself home."

That was a horrible night, and it hurts to think about. It hurts that they just left him there, face down in the dirt. But it's not like he had given them any reason to do otherwise. He swallows hard and looks down, trying to shake the memory.

[myonlydefense]

Stiles presses his fingers against Derek's chest, able to see the wound is healing but still not liking that Derek's obviously lost a lot of blood and seems fine with it. He can feel the wound closing slowly against his skin and it's weird, but... well, yeah, it's pretty freaking awesome, too.

Werewolves, man.

He bites his lip when Derek brings up the night at school, not really knowing what to say. Things were different back then, but it still doesn't make leaving Derek there any more right. At least he can help now.

"Hey, well you don't have to drag yourself anywhere this time." He pats Derek's chest, a little awkward. "If you need anything, I'm here, big guy."

This is probably weird. Derek probably wants to punch him. He pulls back, embarrassed, and goes to get a bottle of water from the fridge, coming back and sitting next to Derek again with the bottle extended. "Drink this, you suicidal moron." And back to cleaning off the bites.

[triskehale]

He actually whines a little when Stiles pulls away from him. Feelings for him aside, he feels like he's healing faster when Stiles is touching him, like he's drawing strength from his pack.

He drinks the water without complaining, tipping his head back to drain the bottle in one go. Stiles touches him again, cleaning blood from his skin, and Derek lets his eyes slip shut as he relaxes, turning in towards Stiles a bit.

[myonlydefense]

"Nest of vampires," Stiles mutters grumpily, finally cleaning off the wounds on Derek's neck but leaving them exposed to the air in hopes that they heal faster. "Who the hell looks at a nest of vampires and goes, yep. Gonna go in there! Who the hell."

Derek isn't even listening. Stupid blood loss. Groaning, he checks Derek over before just resting a hand on his chest again, patting lightly. "Let's get you to bed, big guy. I'm gonna assume you didn't lose so much blood that you're going to spontaneously die on me."

[triskehale]

"No, feels good when you touch me," he mumbles. "Better - feels better. You're my pack. We should touch more."

God, he really is out of it. But it's true; physical touch is very important for packs. He'd never done with his pack back home because the bonds were too tenuous and he was too prideful to make the effort.

He misses it like it's a limb, getting affection from his pack. And now, it finally feels right. Just Stiles and him, like that's how it should be.

[myonlydefense]

Apparently, blood loss makes Derek talkative. And honest. Or crazy. Stiles can't tell which, but in any event, he scoots in close to him on the couch and takes his arm to throw it around his shoulders.

"Okay, we're touching, see? Now we're gonna get up and get you in bed." If it really does make Derek feel better, the least he can do is stick around.

[triskehale]

He pulls Stiles in a little closer once his arm is around him, turning in and pressing his forehead to his jaw for a moment. But then Stiles stands up, the traitor, and Derek growls as he's led towards the bedroom. Bed does sound good though, especially if Stiles stays. Maybe he'll make the sheets smell like hm for days like he did last time, and Derek will sleep better.

He lets go of Stiles and steps in front of him, stretching a bit and pushing his sweats down over his hips shamelessly until he's left in nothing but his black boxer briefs.

"Get another towel," he grumbles, staring hungrily at his bed. "I just did laundry and I don't want blood on my sheets."

[myonlydefense]

Derek gets undressed more often than anyone he knows, he swears to god. He'd normally give him shit about it, but Derek isn't exactly in great shape, so Stiles bites his tongue. For once.

He listens to Derek and goes to get a towel, throwing it at him before immediately catching it before it falls and shuffling over to the bed. "Should hear yourself. I WENT TO KILL VAMPIRES. DON'T GET BLOOD ON MY SHEETS. Really, Derek? Really." He glares, but there's not as much heat to it as he'd like, and he gestures to the bedding that he's prepared, crossing his arms. "Lie down already."

[triskehale]

"Are you ever going to let that go?" He crawls onto the bed on his stomach but that irritates the bites, so he gets up on all fours and wriggles a bit, gearing up to flip over. He finally does, bouncing a little and spreading his arms out.

He purposefully leaves one side of the bed open, the one on the opposite side from all his bites, and looks up sleepily at Stiles through his eyelashes.

[myonlydefense]

"No. When you're better, I'm gonna kick your ass. And Dean's. I'll show you assholes Fight Club, hell yeah." He puts his hands on his hips and nods, tapping one foot while he makes his best tough guy face... which somehow involves him biting his lip. It's not a face he practices often.

He watches Derek get settled and sighs, looking up at the ceiling, then down at a random spot on the floor while he considers his options. Leaving Derek here by himself seems irresponsible, and Derek probably wouldn't mind having his pack around. And he's practically naked. Not that that matters. Or is relevant to this train of thought--

"Do you want me to stay?" Hell.

[triskehale]

God, he likes Stiles. Even his angry face is wonderful to Derek. He just watches him, openly fond, until Stiles asks the question. He had thought wanting Stiles to stay was a given. He'd just said that. God, he can't believe he said that.

"If you'd like to stay," he says carefully, but now he's not so sure. Maybe Stiles had just wanted to get him in bed so he wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. "It's up to you."

[myonlydefense]

"Well, I mean." Derek's tone has changed and it throws him. "I'm not gonna go back to my place. You could collapse because your stupid ass wants water or something and then you'll hit your head and get concussed and who's gonna be here? No one."

He says it like that in and of itself is enough reason to stay - concussion prevention - and then sits down on the bed with as much finality as one can while bouncing on a mattress. "Of course I'm gonna stay." He lies down and grabs one of Derek's pillows to punch and fluff, resting on his stomach with one arm under the pillow and reaching over with the other to pat at Derek's chest.

After a couple of pats, he just rests his hand there. Pack contact, yadda ya. If it helps, right? And Derek's warm, and right there, and... yeah. He shakes his head a little to clear it, voice feeling too loud now that they're both settled. "Do you need anything?"

[triskehale]

Derek lets out the breath he'd been holding when Stiles stiles down, eyes closing almost instantly when Stiles touches him. It soothes the pain, and it's easier to feel his skin slowly knitting back together. It's a tingling warmth, and it just lulls Derek closer to sleep.

"Just this," he says quietly, taking a chance and putting his hand over Stiles' on his chest without opening his eyes. "And some sleep, and I'll be fine."

[myonlydefense]

"Okay," he mutters, curling his fingers against the heat of Derek's skin before rubbing lightly. "But we're having a real talk in the morning, you idiot." He scoots in a little closer, just getting comfortable. It's not the first time they've shared a bed, but neither of them was half naked last time, and Stiles definitely wasn't groping at Derek's chest last time.

...whatever. This feels good, and he's here if Derek needs him.

"Get some rest," he grumbles, closing his eyes.