A/N: Enjoy this AU tag to 3x19 Letharia vulpina. I miss Derek in the new season and I was frustrated with the lack of follow-up after the sheriff station blew up, so here's something I whipped up to cover it.
Disclaimer: Teen Wolf is not owned by me and I am making any profit from writing this.
Chris' ears were ringing and the air was hot, choked with dust. His chest stuttered as he tried to draw breath, but pressure on his back and tender ribs conspired against him. He pushed weakly against the warm weight slung over his shoulders. To his surprise, the restricting mass slid to the side with no resistance. Memory trickled back as his eyes cracked open to see the chaos of the station. His head whipped to the right as he realized the weight was a body – a leather jacket littered with glass daggers covered his corporeal blanket - Derek Hale.
His heart stopped for a moment, unsure if the werewolf was still breathing. The slack features did nothing to reassure him. Chris brought his hand up to Derek 's shoulder to prop the other man up. The new shift caused the younger man's eyes to flutter as he groaned, the sound tickling the edge of Chris's returning hearing. "Derek? Derek!" His other hand came up to support the lolling head of the wolf he was slowly realizing had saved his life.
Derek was mumbling as Chris heaved them to their feet. "I'm okay, 'm Ok…ay." His eyes were hooded and kept sliding closed as Argent attempted to brace him, trying to get them both upright. The wolf – Derek – looked terrible, but there was no time to stop and treat his injuries in the wreck of the station. He needed to get Derek out of here before his healing factor gave away the not-quite-human nature of his companion. But, Derek's legs refused to support him and he slid down Chris' frame to puddle at his feet. The tension in the younger man's brow was in direct opposition to limpness of his body. Derek's teeth were drawn over his lips in a snarl of pain, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he grappled weakly with Chris' torso, trying to get back up.
Even the most minute movements sent searing heat across Derek's back and shoulders. His ribs shifted with each breath. Definitely broken, but there was something more… something was wrong. He couldn't get up! His legs weren't cooperating with him. They didn't hurt in the same manner as his arms and back but they wouldn't move. His breathing sped up as he began to panic, clutching the fabric of the jacket beneath his palms.
Chris Argent's face swam into view as he tried to focus on his surroundings. His first instincts had him pushing away from the perceived threat, eyes rolling wildly in his head. He tried to draw in a scent to compensate for his useless ears. Underneath the sharp tang of cordite and the cloying drift of dust and smoke, Derek caught the subtle, but unmistakable, sour note of worry rolling off of Argent. It was strange enough to bring him up short and cause his short-circuiting brain to take note.
He stilled and his eyes settled above him once again to see Argent holding out his hands in a peaceful gesture, his lips forming silent words. Fragments of recent memory surfaced and Derek tentatively reclassified Argent from immediate threat to potential ally. He briefly broke eye contact to gingerly turn his head to the side and touch one of his throbbing ears. His fingertip came away bloody and when he glanced back, Argent seemed to have gotten the idea, because his mouth had stopped moving. Instead, he squatted down by Derek and tentatively reached down to touch his shoulder. Derek grimaced at the continuing onslaught of pain that was keeping his accelerated healing at bay and pushing his human half forward, but didn't flinch away from the hunter's touch this time.
Chris wasn't sure how to interpret the sudden reversal from the young wolf before him, but he wasn't going to waste time questioning it. He shifted his hand, trying to find a place to apply leverage that wouldn't wind up driving glass deeper into Derek's abused body. As he leaned over, he felt breath stir past his ear as Derek slurred "M' legs …won'… move."
His day just kept getting better and better. That would certainly be a reason to panic. He hoped the damage would be reversible. There was nothing for it, though. He had to get Derek up, and fast. His own hurts would have to be ignored if they were both going to get out of here.
He patted Derek's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion before shifting his grip on the leather jacket and hauling Derek's deadweight up to his shoulders. His face twisted in pain as his back and ribs protested, loudly. Corded arms latched around his shoulders and heaved the werewolf slightly more upright, but Chris was still shakily holding up both of their weights. He made it a shaky step with one of Derek's arms slung around his shoulder, the other hugged around his front and grasping his neck, and suddenly all of the sharp pains and discomfort that had been sapping his strength seemed to fade away, leaving him feeling whole and stronger.
He glanced around in confusion as he pushed forward, not one to waste an opportunity. His startled gaze landed on the forearm that led to the hand so fiercely clinging to his neck. Ropy, black veins snaked along the length of the limb visible beneath the shredded sleeve. The werewolf he was all but dragging next to him, who had saved his life, was now taking Chis' own pain into himself. He surged toward the door, unsure how long Derek would be able to maintain consciousness.
Together, they stumbled into the watery sunlight outside the station. He pushed towards the parking lot, looking for a likely candidate as Derek's grip around his neck began to loosen. Before it faded completely, Chris stopped beside an older model SUV. He leaned down, propping the less-mangled shoulder against a muddy tire as he set his cargo down. Chris reached over the hood and twisted off the antenna, fighting to control the shaking in his hands as the pain returned full-force. He quickly bent the stiff wire into a makeshift tool to jimmy the lock on their ride. He ducked down beneath the dash and with the snap of a few sparks and a whiff of ozone, the engine caught.
He twisted out from the front of the car and caught the dulled eyes of the werewolf on the ground. He had slid sideways, leaving a wide smear of blood on the silver paint job. "I'm going to get you out of here, Derek." Chris pulled the younger man up, ignoring the pained gasps escaping between clenched teeth as the glass shifted, laying open new muscle and grating on bone. He carefully eased Derek down onto his stomach on the back seat and then swung back behind the wheel.
He pulled out of the lot and had a brief internal battle. While his initial instinct was to take a wounded wolf to Deaton, the wily bastard had yet to return from his excursion to Japan. He turned left and drove as carefully as he could until he was pulling up to his own home.
He opened the passenger side and found out how much more difficult it was to maneuver an unconscious werewolf out of a car than it was to get the lucid one in. He tugged Derek out and got him situated on the garage floor. Thank God the neighbors couldn't see them.
He leaned down and began tapping Derek's cheek. When that didn't garner a response, he reluctantly wound up and slapped the wolf as hard as he could. He had to scramble backwards when Derek came up swinging. Chris was concerned to note that he hadn't had to dodge claws, just the wild fist.
Derek's hearing seemed to be recovering, albeit slowly. He shook his head slightly when Chris asked if he could get up on his own. "Legs still won' move."
"Why aren't you healing?"
"Hurts… hurts too much. Pain keeps us human. Need t'get the glass…out."
Chris had suspected as much. Together they struggled inside and Chris pulled Derek toward his bedroom. He eased Derek off of his shoulders onto the coverlet, pushing his legs up after his torso.
He ducked into the bathroom, pulling the extensive first aid kit out, and dumped it on the floor next to the bed. Derek had gone lax on top of the covers, barely opening his eyes when Chris touched his shoulder. They shuttered as Chris began to pull the biggest shard out. Derek gasped as the ragged shard caught on his shoulder blade and had to be twisted before it could be removed.
A low keening started up in the prone man's throat as the next few shards clinked to the floor. The sound was accompanied by tears tracing Derek's cheeks. He paused but Derek ground out, "Keep going."
Several more shards joined the pile on the floor until Derek's jacket was no longer pinned to his back. Chris eased his hand under Derek's chest as he peeled each sleeve down and removed the sopping garment. It joined the gristly collection on the carpet with a wet plop. The garment beneath the shredded leather was soaked in blood. There was no saving it, so Chris tore the remaining shreds out of his way. He was greeted with the full view of Derek's injuries.
Gashes and bruises littered the broad expanse of flesh. It sparkled as Derek twitched, revealing further pieces of glass that had sliced through the jacket and embedded themselves in the skin below. One in Derek's lower back, which had been hidden by the tattered remnants of the werewolf's clothing, gave him pause. It was fairly narrow, reminding Chris of an icicle in its proportions. When his hand brushed against it, he was nearly startled off his perch. Derek let out a full-fledged scream and his heretofore still legs spasmed. Shit.
"Derek. I think this is what's keeping your legs from moving. It's pressing on your spine. If I remove it…"
Derek gritted his teeth, still trying to breathe through the previous wave of agony. "I need you to take it out, Argent. I can't heal like this." His head dropped back to the red-flecked pillow as the last of his strength gave out.
Chris was at a loss. He knew the tension thrumming through the wolf's frame would wind up causing a lot more damage if he just yanked the offending shard. After a moment's indecision, he pushed himself further up the bed. He began to run his hand along the back of Derek's neck, rifling the soft hair at the base of his scalp, the way he did when Alison used to fall asleep in his lap during family movie nights.
His blunt nails moved though the shorter hair and behind the younger man's ears as he spoke, lowly. Nonsense and half-finished stories tumbled around the room as he worked his way around the raw flesh before him, skating soothing hands over the smoother skin of Derek's shoulders and back up to his neck. The repetitive motion and slow, soft words started to pull the werewolf into a trance-like state. He began to relax incrementally. All the while, Chris was slowly wrapping his fingers around the protruding shard.
With each pass over Derek's hair, he tightened his grip. Slowly, he inched the glass free of its host. By the time it joined its brethren on the floor, Derek's eyes were nearly shut. Chris continued to soothe him until the unfocused gaze was finally hidden once again.
"Rest, Derek."
Chris woke with a start. He tracked the sound that had woken him from his own healing sleep back to his bedroom. He rolled off the couch in a low crouch, his back protesting all the way. He straightened when he entered the room and saw the body puddled at the foot of the bed he had left it in a few hours ago. "Derek?"
A muffled groan answered him as Derek pushed himself up on his forearms. Chris knelt next to him, laying his hand on the prone man's bicep. "Derek, can you stand?"
In response, Derek slowly straightened his left leg. His right foot barely twitched. "Getting there."
Chris hesitantly reached down to help him back onto the bed. To his surprise, Derek grasped his forearm and accepted the lift up. Once he was settled on the edge of the bed, responsive leg stretched in front of him, he finally met Chris' eyes. "Why are you helping me?"
Chris looked away. There were so many half-formed reasons and reflexively defensive answers tumbling around that it took a moment to divine the truth. He settled on part of it.
"You saved my life, Derek. I wasn't going to leave you there. If you had been taken to the hospital, someone would have noticed that you were…different."
Derek's face was unreadable. After a moment, he nodded. "Thanks. You know, for- for getting the glass out and everything." He pushed has hands down on the mattress as though to get up, but the tension ran out of his arms as lines of pain tightened his eyes. Common sense warred with pride for a moment. "Do you mind if I…stay here for a few more hours?" He glanced at the older man before looking down and quickly adding, "Just until my other leg is a bit stronger. I seem to be healing faste-"
Chris held up his hand and took half a step forward. He touched Derek's shoulder, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You are welcome here, Derek. Stay until you are ready." He stepped back, offering his hand to Derek once again. "I'm starving, want something to eat?"
Derek considered for a moment, and grasped the offered appendage and levered himself up. Chris ducked under his shoulder and braced him, helping him hobble to the kitchen.
They would heal, in time.
A/N: I am evil and bad and I love it. I hope you enjoyed my foray into the Teen Wolf fandom. It's been fun whumping Derek. If you've got some good Derek whump, PM it to me! I also accept good whump in other fandoms!