iamnotbrooding | For Causticly

For Causticly

Derek focused on the house, listening intently. The Sheriff's car wasn't in the driveway and he could only hear one heartbeat in the house so he assumed Stiles was home alone. He debated for a moment before foregoing the front door and leaping up to Stiles' window. Sliding it open, he ducked his head inside to see Stiles lying on his bed and not looking too well.

After everything that had happened with the Beast, not to mention what happened to Stiles when he was at Malia's, Derek had been worried. A shard of glass through the chest was nothing to laugh at and he'd been waiting for what felt like ages to get to Stiles and check on him.

"Hey," he said softly, sliding inside and closing the window behind him. "How are you feeling?"

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Stiles leaned into the touch, missing it when it was gone. "Thanks," he said, watching Derek leave. While he was gone, Stiles shifted back to lean against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him on the bed to get comfortable. It was a good position to rest in, since it didn't hurt his shoulder too much.

Taking the bottle from Derek when he got back, he downed about half of it in one go, then settled it between his legs so it wouldn't spill. He let out a low groan as the pain faded when Derek began leeching the pain from him, the ache and sharpness from the wound ebbing away.

"Oh my god, that's so much better," he mumbled, resting his head back against the headboard.

Derek frowned, feeling guilt that he hadn't been able to get to Stiles sooner, that he'd had to be in pain for so long. But now that he was here, he didn't plan on going anywhere unless it was to get something for Stiles.

"I talked to Braeden, she told me what happened at Malia's," he said, looking at his own feet for a moment. When it all finally went down, Derek hadn't been there, hadn't been able to help anyone and he hated it. "How much damage did the glass do? Did it go through your muscle?"

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, Stiles."

"It's not that bad," he said, not liking the look on Derek's face.

And- yep, that's what he thought. "Hey, no, stop that. This isn't your fault, okay? I did this knowing full well I might get hurt- hell, that I probably would get hurt. Besides, even if you had been there you might still not've been able to save me. So stop that, okay?" Stiles said adamantly, reaching out with his other hand to grab Derek's arm.

Derek scowls at Stiles before taking a deep breath and letting it out. He knew Stiles was right, but Derek still felt the guilt of not being there, something that stemmed from not being there for his family either. But that was his issue, not Stiles's, so he forced himself to relax.

"Yeah, okay," he sighs, sitting beside Stiles on the bed, watching him for signs of discomfort or pain.

"At least it's dead now," he says, leaning back against the headboard. "And that Theo kid is gone." Which saved Derek from having to kill the little bastard himself. "Maybe things will quiet down for a little bit."

Then he heard what he just said and snorted. "Or not."

Stiles snorts at the comment about Theo. "For now," he said, smirking. "Does anyone ever really stay dead around here?" They thought Peter had died, that Kate had died, that Gerard had died. Hell, even that Jackson had died. He knew he had a point.

"We can only hope," he says, leaning against Derek after the man settles beside him on the bed.

"When you're healed up, we're going out," Derek says firmly, nodding. They were going to take advantage of the peace while they had it since it was sure to end soon enough. "A proper date. Dinner and movie or...something? Whatever you want to do."

He leaned gently against Stiles, good shoulder not wanting to hurt him. "Or I can cook for you," he offered, turning his head to look at Stiles.

"Really?" Stiles asked, looking completely surprised that Derek actually wanted to date him. Sure, they pretty much confessed their feelings to each other, but they hadn't exactly talked it over, what they really were to each other.

"I'd like that," he said softly, honestly. "You should definitely cook for me."

Derek was silent for a moment as he scowled at the wall. "I don't actually know how to cook," he admitted, feeling like an idiot. He'd just wanted to impress Stiles somehow and he didn't even know why. It was Stiles for fucks sake.

He looked at Stiles, his scowl turning into a frown. "But, I'll try. I mean, if you still want me to. Or we can just go somewhere." He sighed. "I'm really not good at this."

Stiles can't help the little grin that crosses his face at hearing that. Derek totally lied to him and likely because he just wanted to do something nice for him.

"How about this; I cook, we eat, and you can do the dishes for me? Because that would totally make me happy. Not having to do the dishes for once."

Derek relaxed and nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. When you're healed that is. For now, I'm taking care of you." The last came out as more of an order than a statement.

"Are you sure you can't eat something? You need strength to heal."

His grin softened into a small smile, his heart feeling like it melted just a little hearing Derek say that.

"I think there's some left over mac and cheese in the fridge if you want to heat it up for me?" He asked, shrugging a little. He hadn't really been that hungry the last day or two, he pain pills, when he took them, made him feel overly sleepy and groggy.

Derek nods and jumps from the bed, going to get the food Stiles will eat, even if that food is leftover mac and cheese. It takes a few minutes to find it, heat it up and grab another bottle of water. He also grabs the apple sitting on the counter before heading back upstairs.

"Are you sure you don't want something else," he asks, glancing down at the sad little bowl of macaroni. "I can order a pizza or get you something." He sets the things on the bedside table beside Stiles.

"Thanks, man," Stiles says as Derek gets up and leaves the bedroom.

He laughs a bit at that, and the look Derek gives the mac and cheese.

"Let's see how my stomach handles this first. I don't want to waste a perfectly good pizza," he says, picking up the bowl and fork.

"Dad was home this morning, so I had to take one of the pain pills. It made me a little queasy, which is why I haven't eaten." He tried, of course, but it didn't end well.

Derek nods in understanding. "Well, I'll keep the pain away and you keep eating." If the pain Stiles was in when he got there was any indication, the pills weren't doing much anyway.

"When is your dad getting home?" he asks, looking around the room, considering places he can hide if necessary. "I don't exactly have anywhere to be." The plan had been to come back and deal with the Beast, then see where things went with Stiles. Things happened a bit faster than he'd anticipated. "I meet with someone tomorrow about an apartment. In town," he clarified.

Stiles nods and starts to eat, chowing down on the food, and it seems like his stomach might actually keep it down this time.

He pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth when Derek tells him about he apartment appointment. "What, really? You are?" he asks, then shoves the forkful into his mouth, chewing and swallowing.

"Where at in town?"

"Yeah, on Kramer Avenue, the Springs. It backs up to the woods, so it'll be easy to get to when I need it. Is that okay? That I'm staying for awhile?" he asked, suddenly insecure.

"Yes!" Stiles exclaimed, not hesitating at all. "I mean, yes, of course it's okay. I just wanted to know how far I'd have to travel to see you, that's all."

Derek gave him a small smile. "Not far. Closer than the loft was anyway. I don't really need that much room anymore, just got a small place."

Hopefully someplace he could make feel more like home.

He grinned. "It has a kitchen though."

"Good, that means I can start giving you cooking lessons," he teased, smirking a little at the other man.

It sounded nice, though, a little place for Derek to have, maybe this time they can make some good memories to go along with it.

Derek chuckled. "My sister...Laura, she tried but to be honest I suck at it." He thought for a moment. "I can make eggs." It wasn't much, but it had kept him fed more than once. He liked the protein.

"So you can cook? Didn't know that."

Stiles is quiet as Derek talks- he's never heard him talk about his family before. "I like eggs," he says in reply, smiling.

The teen shrugs at that. "I taught myself after my mom died. She loved to cook, and with her gone someone had to do it. Dad was in a bad place back then, so I felt it was up to me to keep us going."

Derek never wanted to talk about his family, it was too hard. But it was different with Stiles, it felt...normal almost. Maybe because Stiles had lost someone too and he knew he could understand that kind of pain.

Derek's eyes drift to Stiles' chest. "How are you feeling? Are you hurting?" He knew it was silly, how worried he was, but taking the pain helped alleviate the guilt he felt at not being there.

Stiles takes the change of subject easily- their family is a raw spot for both of them.

"Better now that I've eaten, still kind of in pain though," he says, and then offers his hand to Derek for the werewolf to siphon the pain from him. It works a lot better than the pain pills do and it doesn't make him feel all weird afterward.

Derek takes the hand and draws out the pain, but doesn't let Stiles take his hand back. Instead, he threads their fingers together and smile.

He used to be so good at this, smooth even, and he was trying desperately to get that back. Perhaps it was knowing that he could have something real with Stiles that had him so nervous and tentative.

"So, what would your dad think if I showed up at the front door and told him I was here to take you out on a date?" he teases, brushing his thumb over the back of Stiles hand.

Stiles lets out a content little sigh and shifts to rest his head on Derek's shoulder. It's nice, just them like this. Nothing, for the moment, to worry about.

"I think he'd be surprised as all hell, then he'd give you "the talk", probably clean his gun in front of you and remind you he has wolfsbane bullets now," he says, tilting his head to grin up at him.

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