Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the character's in this fic.
Author's note: Set at some point after 3A. An anon on tumblr gave me a really great detailed prompt and this is what it turned into. I hope you all like it!
When Stiles and Scott arrived at the Deaton's practice Derek was already lying on the metal examination table as Isaac leaned over him, looking terrified. The sight of Derek lying there made Stiles go cold all over, as though someone had shot ice straight into his heart valves.
"I couldn't stop him from getting hurt," Isaac was babbling, panic making him oblivious to the nasty looking gash on the side of his face that was trickling blood down his neck, onto his ripped shirt. "The alpha was too strong and now that Derek's not an alpha he isn't healing."
Stiles rushed to Derek's side and a pained sound escaped his mouth when he realised the full extent of Derek's injuries; his torso was covered in deep gashes from where the alpha's claws had sliced through his abdomen.
"He's bleeding so much," Stiles said, his voice raw with fear and emotions that he wasn't quite ready to identify yet. "Where the hell's Deaton?" he asked frantically, turning his eyes to Isaac.
"He's on his way. He was on his lunch break, I had to break down the door to get in here. I'm sorry, I tried to help him but I couldn't…"
Stiles tuned out the rest of Isaac's guilt and Scott's reassurances that it wasn't Isaac's fault and turned his gaze back to Derek. He gripped the werewolf's bicep tight, needing the contact to keep him grounded, to stop him from losing his mind with worry.
"You're gonna be alright, Derek," he spoke quietly, trying unsuccessfully to keep his wavering voice steady and calm. Stiles wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure most of all, Derek or himself. He didn't even know if Derek could hear him.
He watched as Derek's marred chest rose and fell shallowly and when he spoke again his voice sounded strangled and pained even to his own ears, "You better be okay."
He placed his fingers against Derek's neck and bit his lip when his eyes filled with panicked tears when he felt just how faint Derek's pulse was.
"Scott, come on, do some of your alpha werewolf voodoo or something. Help him!" Stiles sounded wild with panic and he knew it.
"I don't think-" Scott began but cut himself off when he took in the pure fear in Stiles' wide eyes. If trying to take some of Derek's pain made that look leave Stiles' face, Scott would do it, even though he was certain it wouldn't help. He understood how important Derek had become to Stiles, even if his best friend didn't realise it himself.
"Okay," Scott agreed. He gently pushed Stiles out of the way and placed his palm over Derek's bloodied chest and concentrated with all that he was worth on making Derek heal. It wasn't working, he could feel it, but he kept trying until his head ached with the strain of it.
"Is it working?" Stiles asked, and Scott's heart felt heavy with the hope in his voice.
He shook his head wordlessly in reply and he could hear the way Stiles' heart rate immediately sped up and Scott worried that he might take a panic attack.
"Come on, try and calm down," Scott murmured. "It's not gonna help things if you end up in a breathless heap on the floor."
Just then Deaton burst into the surgery.
"Let me take a look at him," he commanded firmly.
Stiles watched from the side of the room as Deaton silently cleaned Derek's wounds and injected a silvery liquid into Derek's bicep. It felt like hours had passed when he finally stepped back.
"Is he going to be okay?" Stiles asked immediately.
Deaton fixed Stiles with a sympathetic stare, "I'm sorry to say that I don't know. I've cleaned his wounds and given him an injection that would normally cause injuries inflicted by alphas to heal at a quicker rate than normal but Mr Hale's wounds are so severe that I can't be sure that it will help. All we can do now is wait and see."
"Surely there's something else that we can do. We can't just stand around and wait to see if he dies or not," Stiles protested, his face pale with distress.
"I'm afraid there is nothing else that can be done now. What happens next is up to fate," he turned his attention to Isaac. "But I do have to sort out that nasty cut of yours, Isaac. Come next door and I'll have a look at that."
Isaac nodded and his eyes flicked to Scott in a silent plea for him to go with him for support. It was clear that Isaac's nerves were absolutely shot.
"I'll come," Scott said and placed a gentle hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Stiles can stay with Derek."
"Yeah," Stiles agreed, his voice rough with unvoiced emotion. "I'll stay with him."
When he was finally alone with him, Stiles pulled a chair over to Derek's bedside and sat as close to him as he could get without actually climbing onto the bed with the older man. He watched the unsteady rise and fall of Derek's chest and wished with all of his might for him to pull through.
His eyes fell upon Derek's open hand and Stiles yearned to hold it, to clasp their fingers together so tightly that maybe Derek would be able to feel all the tangled, messy feelings that Stiles was feeling for him flow into him through Stiles' palm. He knew it was stupid, that it wasn't possible, but he wanted it. God, he wanted it. But he didn't, he held back because who was he to hold Derek Hale's hand? He was pretty sure that Derek would claw his face off if Stiles ever tried to hold his hand while he was awake. Instead he just placed his hand next to Derek's, so that their hands were almost touching, but not quite.
"You have to wake up," Stiles began, "I mean I know we're not really friends but I don't hate you. I don't think you actually hate me either, maybe you wouldn't admit it but that's what I think. We've actually been almost getting along recently. I don't want that to stop, you know?"
He was rambling, he knew that, but he didn't think that Derek could hear him so what did it matter?
"When you were at my house using my computer for research last week I kind of wanted to kiss you before you left. It's crazy, I know that, but I just did. You looked at me weird that night too, I dunno… you looked like you might not have killed me if I'd tried. I didn't try though, I chickened out."
Stiles took a deep shuddering breath and tried to fight back the tears that were making his eyes sting and his throat feel constricted.
"I chickened out and now you might be dying," he continued his voice sounding choked. "Derek, I swear if you wake up I'll try not to get on your nerves anymore. You just have to wake up because I think-" a small sob escaped Stiles, interrupting his sentence. "I think I might actually love you a bit."
Trembling with a mixture of nerves and relief from his confession Stiles stood and leaned over Derek's still body. Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned forward and pressed a chaste but tender kiss to Derek's lips before sitting back down and pressing his forehead to Derek's bicep as he began to really cry for the first time.
Stiles jolted back into an upright position when he felt a cold hand cover his own. When he looked to Derek his frantic gaze was met with Derek's drowsy one.
"Derek?" Stiles asked hesitantly, afraid to get his hopes up.
Using all the strength that he could muster, Derek weakly squeezed Stiles hand in both a reply and in reassurance. He was healing.
Later, when Stiles was in his bed at home he grinned and wondered if the injection had made Derek wake up or if maybe his kiss had some kind of sleeping beauty effect on Derek. Of course, he'd never ask. He did, after all, want to keep all of his limbs and equating Derek Hale with a Disney princess was definitely not the way to go about that.
Author's note: I'm thinking of writing a sequel to this with Derek confronting Stiles about what he said when he thought Derek couldn't hear. If anyone's interested let me know!