*Woosh!*
A lacrosse ball flew right past Stiles' head, missing him only by a few inches. Stiles sent Jackson an angry look but before Stiles could retort, Coach Finstock already yelled Jackson's name.
"Jackson! Don't try to hit your teammate! Destroy the other team!" Jackson's smug face fell when he realized he had missed Stiles.
"Was that supposed to hurt?" Stiles sneered at Jackson, who narrowed his eyes.
Scott gave Stiles a clap on his shoulder and guessed, "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Jackson is just an ass," Stiles muttered and moved his eyes back on the opponent's goal.
A low growl sounded warning from the stands. Jackson looked at Derek, who flashed his eyes angrily. Jackson only shrugged and jogged off.
The whistle blew again and Port Valley played the ball. Boyd immediately caught it, knocking a Port Valley player against the ground so quick that the referee didn't even see it. Scott ran forward while Danny called Jackson over to the home goal.
"What?!" Jackson hissed aggressively at his best mate.
"Why are you so eager to die?" Danny whispered, his eyes only once leaving the ball to look at Jackson questioningly.
"Leave me alone, Danny," Jackson huffed while running off to the other goal.
"If you keep this up, he'll slit your throat," Danny warned, shaking his head at his stubborn best friend.
Meanwhile on the stands
"Derek, just calm down, I'm sure Jackson didn't do it on purpose," Allison hurried to say while calmly placing her hand on Derek's arm. Derek shook her hand off, and rolled his eyes at his pack members on the lacrosse field.
"It's the pack's responsibility to make sure Stiles doesn't get hurt, that includes Jackson."
Suddenly Jackson stormed forward to catch the ball and bumped hard into Stiles and another player from Port Valley who were ready to catch it.
Even before the humans could hear the *crack* sound of broken bones, Derek stormed off the stand, onto the field. Jackson was ignoring the injuries he brought onto the two players that were now rolling over the floor in pain and ran forward to score.
But none of the players, from either team, were paying attention to Jackson. The injured Port Valley player was soundlessly crying and grasping onto his right shoulder for dear life, while Stiles looked a little dazed, unaware of his injury.
Scott was the first one to reach Stiles, and he immediately smelled the blood, seeping out of Stiles' left leg.
"How are you doing, buddy?" Scott asked, looking more and more worried at Stiles' leg.
"I'm like… basically dying, right?" Stiles managed to get out, looking at the bone that was sticking out of his leg and becoming more and more pale.
A group formed around the two players that were laying on the ground and everyone looked up at Derek who was also covered in blood, brushing past all the players.
"Derek, what-" Isaac started, looking at Jackson who was lying knocked out on the field, about 120 feet away.
Derek carried Stiles off the field, running towards his Camaro, immediately followed by Scott and Erica.
"Are you really going to let me bleed in your Camaro? It must be true love," Stiles disclosed high on adrenaline but nearly fainting.
"Scott! Get over here and hold his head! Erica you keep his leg still," Derek barked while placing Stiles as gently as he could on the backseat of his Camaro.
In the hospital
When Stiles' surroundings became clear, he looked straight into Derek's worried face. A grin appeared on Stiles' face. Derek could smell the anaesthesia still overpowering Stiles' own scent, but he was curious how Stiles would respond.
"Always when you are the first thing I see when I wake up, I feel this warmth spread throughout my heart."
Derek ignored Stiles, even though a small smile broke through his façade. "Stiles, you fainted after you found out that you broke your leg two in two places."
"Nice! How's Jackson?" Stiles asked, clearly affected by the anaesthesia.
"He has a concussion. He tripped over his own feet while running towards the goal."
"Uhuh," Stiles nodded, clearly calling bullshit, "You know, I'm starting to think you're obsessed with me," Stiles stated dryly.
"Stiles, we are dating," Derek conceded, obviously amused by his drugged boyfriend.
"Really? Thanks every deity out there!"
Derek rolled his eyes amusedly and took Stiles' hand into his own.
Stiles seemed genuinely surprised by this action but laced their fingers together, happily.
"Hey, Derek?"
"Yes, Stiles."
"Does this mean that you are going to carry me around everywhere I wish?"
"Don't push your luck, Stiles," Derek answered stern, but it lacked conviction. Instead it sounded more loving and adorably than stern.
"Pretty please?" Stiles begged sleepily, slowly drifting off.
"Fine," Derek whispered, looking lovingly at his injured boyfriend in the hospital bed, not ever being able to deny him anything.
Meanwhile in the ER
"How many fingers am I holding up, Mr. Whittemore?" Doctor Moore asked while frowning at the young man in front of him who was covered in blood.
A loud groan of pain sounded. "Seven? No, eight, no-"
"Congratulations, you have a severe concussion."
Fin