A/N: - so basically I know my version of Derek can be OOC sometimes; but that is the way I like to write him. To me he is this tough-werewolf-guy who has a little heart and a soft spot for Stiles. I know, most writers write him as being grumpy and distant, but I prefer to write him like this.
- also, I know they end up a lot in bed :| Not in a sexual way, but I mean, it is Stiles taking care of Derek and I just liked the thought of Derek sleeping it off and Stiles surfing on the interwebz, secretly taking pictures of Derek drooling all over the place.
- The story is also somewhere set around the Kanima events; mainly because that is when I started writing this fic. I have already seen the rest of course, because, like always, I let stuff like this linger around and finally had the time to finish it all. So, if there are things that didn't happen in season 2 it is because I was influenced by season 3.

2017: wow I finally managed to upload this one. It was actually finished a while ago but I guess I forgot about it. Anyway, season 6b is going to start soon. I can't believe it will soon be over. Man, I love this series and I miss Derek.

V - Siphonaptera

'Fleas.'

'Yes, Stiles, fleas.'

The teenage boy stared incredulous at the older man. Both of his eyebrows were raised, and despite all the effort, he couldn't keep the sly grin off his face.
Derek Hale, in his early twenties, Alpha of a pack of werewolves–thanks very much- was glaring at him, his eyes flashing red for a split second. He couldn't find the humour in this whole situation. In fact, this was highly unpleasant and embarrassing. He snarled and smiled inwardly when he saw the hyperactive teenager's smile falter.

'So…fleas…What do you want me to do? Isn't Scott a better person to deal with all of this?' Stiles motioned at Derek, who scratched irritably behind his ear. He looked so much like a dog, Stiles wanted to laugh again.
'How did you even get them in the first place?'

The question was meant sincere and Stiles would never have expected the wolf's reaction. Derek turned a deep shade of red, and found his nails –which were elongated at the moment- suddenly very interesting.

Stiles' eyebrows rose even more.
'Do I actually want to know? Dude. Is it contagious?' he asked and took a step back, his hands in front of him, trying to ward off any of the little critters that decided Derek wasn't so attractive any more.

Derek glared at him.
'Of course not, they are only contagious to other werewolves. That's why I couldn't ask Scott. I would just pass them on.'

Stiles crossed his arms in front of his chest, still not convinced.
'And what do you need me to do?'

'I need you to take me to Deaton. He knows the cure.' Derek sighed and glared at Stiles when the younger man raised his eyebrows again.

'Wait…you are willing to go to Deaton? Wow! I didn't think I'd live to see the day that Derek Hale needs help! From a vet!'

There was a low and threatening growl coming from the wolf and Stiles let out an involuntarily yelp.

'Jeez, dude…Hold your horses. Fine!' Stiles sighed exasperated and threw his hands in the air. He turned around and walked towards his blue Jeep. He pulled the keys from his pocket and opened his precious 'baby'.
'Just make sure that you keep your vermin to yourself…I don't want those little critters residing in my car.'

Derek huffed and scratched at his arm whilst getting in. Everywhere on his arms where red splotches and raw skin. It looked rather painful.

'And for the record, I don't think it's very healthy what you are doing now.' Stiles said and gave a pointed look at the ugly scratch marks on Derek's arms. He started the car and pulled out the parking lot of the library, where Derek had 'jumped' him.
Come to think of it. Derek was like a flea himself…

Just like fleas, his company was unwanted and could be very, very annoying…

'It will heal.' Derek said and that was final.

The silence in the car was awkward to say the least, and while Stiles could have a conversation going on his own, he really didn't feel like breaking the silence.
They would arrive at Beacon Hill's Veterinarian soon anyways. He just hoped that Dr. Deaton would be able to help. He really didn't feel like staying around Derek 'Flea' Hale.

'Who sleeps with the dogs, gets the fleas.' Stiles thought to his self.

He parked the car at the Vet's clinic and got out, frowning when Derek didn't.
The wolf stared at the door with wide eyes, filled with uncertainty and…fear?
'Hey, Derek. It's okay! Most dogs are scared of the vet anyways.' Stiles said with a smirk and got in when he heard the wolf growl menacingly. He would regret this but not right now.

Deaton was standing behind the little wooden barrier of Mountain Ash, leafing through some papers. He didn't look up when Stiles entered.
'Greetings Stiles.'

'Hello doc.' Stiles greeted, long used to the weirdness of the doc.

'How can I help you?'

Stiles leant casually on the counter, unable to keep a smirk off his face.
'Well doc, I have a particular sick puppy with a very annoying skin condition.'

Deaton raised his eyebrows.
'Something happened to Scott?'

'No, not at all. Scott's fine. Most likely hanging around with Allison. No the sick puppy in this case is no one else but Derek Hale.'

Deaton looked resigned.
'Do I want to know?'

'Ah, yes, doc. He asked me to bring him to you. I guess he's giving himself a mental speech right now.'

At the same moment the door opened and a very ticked off Derek Hale got in. He shot a furious glare at Stiles, who raised his hands.

'What seems to be the problem, Derek?' Deaton asked, eying the red marks all over Derek's bare arms and neck.

'Fleas…' Stiles said before Derek could answer, and pointedly ignored another glare.

'I see…' Deaton opened the little gate and let both men in. He lead them towards the clinic so he could take a look at Derek's little 'problem'.

'Take off your shirt please.' Deaton ordered and turned around to put on some gloves.

Derek sighed and peeled off his shirt.

Stiles frowned as he saw the wedge-shaped markings and crusts all over Derek's torso and back.
The doc, who had turned back around in order to examine Derek, mirrored his reaction. He leant over and examined a particular nasty looking scratch.

'Derek, are you familiar with the term Flea Allergy Dermatitis? Or FAD for short?'

Derek looked quite lost.

'See, the skin is the major barrier between the internal environment of the body and the external environment's hazard. The epidermal layer is 'disposable', in the sense that its very rapid production of new cells can make up significant loss to abrasion, injury, scratch marks, you name it…Now, the skin is a target for exoparasites like fleas. They can easily pierce the thin epidermal layer with their blood-sucking apparatus to get blood.'

Derek nodded.

'Like in your case, if hypersensitivity develops, the tissue damage associated with inflammation may become too great even for the skin to repair and opportunistic infections with common bacteria can gain foothold. So flea allergy dermatitis begins with flea saliva, which contains antigenic materials like amino acids, aromatic compounds, polypeptides and phosphorus. Dogs-' Derek glared at Deaton, who just continued, '- present with severe scratching, biting and licking.'

'What has that got to do with me?'

'You have FAD, Flea Allergy Dermatitis and this causes you to get papules, crusts and wedge-shaped patterns over your body.'

'How can we cure it?'

'First of all we need to get the infections under control, which can be done by not scratching any more.' He swatted at Derek's hand that was unconsciously picking at a scratch mark. Stiles smiled in delight.

'Then I can give you a topical treatment. Best is to take a bath and use a lot of soap. I can give you an ointment for the scratches. I know they will heal but we need to get this under control before you cause an outbreak. You also need to thoroughly wash your clothes.'

'Yeah, I will go back to the railway depot and get cleaned up.'

'Have you already been there this week?'

'No? I have been in the woods.'

'Then it's best to stay away before you contaminate the area.'

'How do I get fresh clothes? Where am I supposed to wash myself?' Derek asked, getting a bit annoyed.

Deaton looked at Stiles who was busy playing with a microscope. Derek followed the gaze and frowned angry.

'Him?' Derek exclaimed.

Stiles looked up at all the ruckus and frowned when he saw Deaton smiling at him and Derek looking royally pissed off.
'Did I miss something?' he asked.

'Derek needs a place where he can wash up and get some fresh clothes. Also, I can't risk letting him go back to his pack. He might infect them all. Besides he needs some help putting the ointment on his back.'

Stiles crossed his arms in front of his chest, about to make a remark but one look from the doc and he knew he didn't really have an option.

'Ugh, fine…Just don't get the fleas all over my house.'

'They won't. These fleas are only attracted to certain creatures like dogs and werewolves.'

Derek put his shirt back on and rubbed a hand through his hair, accepting the topical medicine Deaton gave him. Deaton went up to Stiles to give him instructions, concerning the eradication of the fleas.

'Thanks, I guess.' He said as they moved outside.

'My pleasure.' Deaton said and nodded, returning back into the examination room, leaving the two men standing in the waiting area.

Stiles glared at Derek, who was looking like a lost puppy.
'So I guess we'll go then.' Stiles muttered and walked out. Derek followed suit, looking deflated.

When they arrived at home Stilinski, Stiles was grateful that his dad was at the station. It would be awkward enough already. No need to involve his father in…all of this…
Both of them got upstairs, Stiles steering Derek towards the bathroom.

'Now Deaton said that you first needed to lather your body before you turn on the tap. Water scares the fleas away or something.' Stiles muttered, handing him his favourite shower gel. It was the last bottle but there was nothing else available at the moment. He really needed to go to the store to run some errands.

Derek merely looked at him with his impassive glare.

'And I need your clothes too. You can borrow some of mine.'

'Stiles none of your clothes fit.' Derek growled and shrugged out of his leather jacket with resignation.

'I can give you some clothes of my dad. Just…just get on with it okay? I'll be waiting outside. Call me if you need anything.' Stiles said and dropped a fluffy towel on the closed toilet seat. He went outside, holding the leather jacket as if it was contaminated. Well it was, somehow.

He went down to grab a plastic bag. There was no way he could wash the leather jacket without ruining it and get Derek's wrath over him. When he got back upstairs he saw Derek's clothes lying in a heap in front of the closed bathroom door. Stiles picked them up and put them in the washing machine, using excessive washing powder.
'Let's kill these little monsters.' He muttered.

He retreated back into his room, hearing the shower run. He sat down behind his desk and opened his laptop when he heard a muttered curse. He looked up and frowned.

'Stiles?'

Stiles could hear the resigned tone in Derek's voice. Oh lord. Stiles got up and headed towards the bathroom.

'Are you okay, Derek?' he asked and knocked on the door.

'I…' there was a weary sigh and a snarl.
'I can't reach my back.'

Oh. Well damn…

Stiles pressed his forehead against the door.

'Just cover up and then I come in and help you out. Okay?'

There was a silence and another sigh.

'Yeah sure…I'm ready.'
Stiles opened the door and saw Derek still standing in the shower but with a towel wrapped around his waist. Small rivulets of water trickled down his back and pooled at the edge of the towel.

Well, this was awkward.

If Derek found the whole situation awkward too, he didn't let Stiles notice it. The teenager grabbed a washing cloth and put shampoo on it. He vigorously lathered Derek's muscled back, solely focusing on the task. Sure, Derek was a handsome guy, but no. He was not into him, at all. He'd rather be any place else but here.

When he was done, he patted Derek's shoulder and headed out, hands still covered in soap but not able to stay in the bathroom any longer. So he cleaned his hands in the sink downstairs.

'Okay, so Deaton said I should cover the worst patches with ointment and cover them up in a thin piece of gauze. And then give him these pills.' Stiles sighed, grabbing the small bag on the kitchen table where he had dropped it before they headed upstairs. He took a glass and filled it with water.

He went back upstairs. Great work-out, he thought and put the glass of water on the nightstand next to his bed. He went over to his father's bedroom and pulled some drawers of the cupboard open, searching for a shirt, pants and underwear.

He found a standard black shirt and an old pair of sweatpants his dad never wore. It would have to do. He placed the stack of clothes in front of the bathroom door and knocked on it.

'Derek, there's fresh clothes outside.'

There was a hum and the tap closed off. Stiles went back to his room and stayed there until Derek came in, his hair damp. The alpha werewolf sat down on the bed, rubbing his face wearily. As small as the problem seemed to be, it appeared to tire him.

'Doctor Deaton said that I needed to put some of this ointment on the worst scratches. But first you have to take these pills. They should help with the itching.'

'Should help?' Derek said with suspicion clear in his voice as he took the glass of water, offered by Stiles.

'Yeah, well you know the tales about placebo's and things, just to get the money going.'
'Stiles.'

'I get it. Just take the damn pills. They will make you drowsy for the next three hours or so.'

Derek immediately lowered the glass.
'I don't need them.'

'Yes. You .Do.' Stiles growled, emphasizing every word. 'Unless you want to keep scratching until you get an infection and Deaton will have to chop off your arm, just like the time when you were shot by a wolfs bane-bullet. That wasn't so nice, was it?' Stiles reasoned and glared at the sourwolf.

Derek bared his teeth but took the pills anyways. He emptied the glass and set it down on the little nightstand.

'Take off your shirt, please.' Stiles said and opened the container filled with ointment. Derek looked at him strangely.

'Look dude, I asked nicely. Just take it off, I need to tend to your scratches.'

Derek groaned and took it off, clearly exasperated with all of this.

'Can't I just go? I mean, I am cleansed now.' He muttered and put the shirt on his lap.

'No, not until I tended to the wounds and you've had a good night's rest.'

Derek snorted and winced when Stiles applied some ointment on a nasty looking scab. Derek's whole back was a mass of scratches and patches and Stiles had a feeling he would run out of ointment before he managed to slather the white gloop everywhere.

'How did you even get to these parts of your back?' he asked.

'I am very lean when I'm in wolf-form, and otherwise I use a tree or something like that.' Derek muttered, his chin resting on his chest, the medicine clearly working.

'Okay. Forgive me for asking.'

''S'okay.'

Stiles got up and got a clean towel from the bathroom.

'Here ya go, big lump, lie down on it.'

Derek complied and Stiles worked on the wolf's torso. By the time he was done, the older man was fast asleep, and softly snoring. Stiles looked at his handiwork and nodded approvingly. He pulled the shirt from Derek's grip and placed it at the foot's end.

He got up and went downstairs, washed his hands and turned on the television, dozing off after half an hour. When he woke up, Derek was gone and the window was slightly open. The clothes that had been in the washing machine were taken too.

When Stiles got back home from school the next day, he found a package on his bed, containing his father's washed clothes and a little piece of paper, with on it: thank you.

Stiles smiled.