For my own edification and amusement, I decided to take a 100 prompt challenge. Will I make it? Who knows, but "writing more" is a New Year's Resolution for me, so I'm giving it a shot.
Derek opened his eyes slowly. He blinked several times before he could focus on the person seated next to his bed.
"Hey," he grunted. His voice was raspy, his throat and mouth dry.
"Hey," Stiles replied sleepily. He'd been dozing. Suddenly, his eyes flew open, he shot out of his chair, and his face split into a wide grin. "Hey!" he shouted, "You're awake! Oh thank God!" He repeated himself, word for word, in an ecstatic whisper after Derek winced from the noise.
Derek took a few sips from the water bottle Stiles handed him and cleared his throat. "What happened?"
"What do you remember?" Stiles asked.
"A dragon?" Derek muttered, shaking his head, "That can't be right."
Stiles scoffed. "A dragon? Yeah, right." He leaned back in his chair. "It had no arms, it was a wyvern, and it beat the crap out of you."
Derek frowned. "I remember a bit of that," he rubbed his eyes, "It wasn't much fun."
"It wasn't much fun to watch," Stiles admitted.
"How is everyone?" Concern filled his voice, "Did anyone else get…"
Stiles grinned and shook his head. "We were all a little banged up, but nothing serious," he said softly, rolling up his sleeve to show a fresh bandage.
"What happened to the drago- the wyvern?"
"Uh… It left. Eventually."
Derek tried to sit up, but didn't quite make it. "You just let it go?"
Stiles glared at him. "We didn't have much of a choice! After it threw you through the second tree, we decided it was better to let angry dinosaur-monsters lie. It flew off as we were trying to get you back to the Jeep, no one's heard anything since. That, uh, that was five days ago."
"Five days!" Derek grunted, rubbing the thick stubble on his face, "And you've been here the whole time?"
"Yeah," Stiles answered, then leaned forward, "How did you know I was here?"
"I could hear you talking." Derek admitted.
Stiles blushed slightly. "Deaton said it might be good for you to hear a familiar voice."
"He was right. I was far away, and I had a choice, keep going, or come back. Once I heard what you were saying, I only had one option."
Stiles smiled, then blanched, a horrified expression creeping onto his face. "You heard what I was saying?"
Derek, grinning slightly, reached out and took Stiles' hand. "Most of it," he squeezed gently, "Enough."
Stiles avoided Derek's gaze. With his free hand, he rubbed his face. "That was… I… I didn't know if you were going to make it. I was afraid."
"Afraid you'd never get to say those things to me?" Derek tilted his head, forcing Stiles to look at him.
"Yeah," Stiles admitted. His voice was tiny. "When my mom died… I didn't tell her so many things. I had the time, but…"
"Saying them made it real."
Stiles nodded, sniffling. "I couldn't do it again."
Derek pulled on Stiles' arm. Stiles slid off the chair and, kneeling on the hard concrete, buried his face into Derek's chest, softly weeping. Derek didn't know if he cried from grief, regret, relief, or embarrassment, all he could do was gently stroke the back of Stiles' head and make soothing noises.
After a few minutes, Stiles pulled away and got to his feet. His eyes and nose were red, but he had a goofy grin on his face. "Are you hungry?" he asked, pulling out his phone, "Isaac should be here in a few, I can ask him to pick something up."
Derek sighed, his stomach started grumbling as soon as Stiles mentioned food. "Several hamburgers would be great," he grinned. "Isaac knows my usual." Stiles turned away to use his phone, but before he could complete the call, Derek grabbed his hand again.
"It would be weird, I think, for the others, if they heard what you said to me," he began. He could feel Stiles' pulse jump, feel a slight tremor of nervousness run through him. "But I want to hear it again, awake this time, not in a daze."
Stiles' whole body relaxed as he matched Derek's grin. "Don't you dare die, Sourwolf. You don't know how much I love you yet," he whispered.