Stiles doesn't always have the best memory. All he can remember about his mom nowadays is the color of her shirts when she tucked him into bed, the shape of her hands when she handed him a glass of milk to drink, and other small, insignificant tidbits of information. He can't recall her voice, her laugh, her hair, her face.
His childhood is a blur of happiness and pain (not always his). His dad didn't have any tapes of Stiles as a child. Stiles doesn't care that much, but sometimes he really needs a new voice to hear.
Right now, Stiles wakes up in a hospital when he was almost ninety-seven percent sure he was just driving his Jeep to Derek's loft. When he tries to sit up and feels pain, he's almost forty-four percent sure. When he spies his dad, asleep, in the chair next to the bed, Stiles almost stops breathing.
"Dad?" Stiles asks, throat dry. "Dad?" He tries again, a little louder.
His dad jolts awake, and the first thing he does is stand up and move closer to Stiles. "Stiles. You're okay." He has tears in his eyes. Stiles still isn't sure why he's here yet.
"Um, yeah. Why am I here? What happened?" Stiles scratches his head, and finds both his forehead and arm wrapped in gauze. His left arm, to be exact. His right arm is scratched up pretty bad though, and when he goes to move his legs, only one of them does. The right one.
"You don't remember?" Sheriff asks. He opens his mouth, but is cut off by a nurse walking in.
"Ah, you're awake, Stiles." He grabs the clipboard at the end of the bed, and looks it over. "Let's go through this, shall we? Three cracked ribs, two bruised ones, fractured left arm, broken left femur... concussion, and some internal bleeding that was solved while in the operating room."
Okay, so Stiles might've fallen a sleep at some point during the list, but he gets the gist of it. He had an accident, got hurt, and is not moving from this bed for a few days. "What happened?"
The nurse puts down the clip board. "You hit a deer and you weren't wearing your seat-belt. You crashed through the windshield." The nurse walks over and checks a few machines Stiles' is attached to. "You'll have surgery on Monday morning for your femur, so you should be out by Thursday."
If he wasn't in this situation with Parrish and Derek, Stiles wouldn't mind the extra days in the hospital. He nods at the nurse that he understands, and his dad follows the nurse outside the room. Stiles wants to overhear what they're saying, but he ends up falling asleep.
Damn nurses.
Derek POV
The hospital's ten minutes away by car, so Derek runs. He could've easily had Deaton pick him up and give him a ride. However, the need to get to Stiles is stronger than his patience.
It takes twenty minutes. He bursts through the door and almost runs straight into Melissa McCall. "Sorry, Mrs. McCall. Where's Stiles?"
She frowns. "Why?"
"Because I need to see him," Derek says. (He refrains himself from growling because this is Scott's mother, who is also a very intimidating woman.)
Melissa narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. "Why?"
Derek swallows another growl, and sighs. "Please."
She still doesn't look like she wants to tell him, but she does anyway. "Second floor, all the way down the hall. He's on the right." She pokes her finger in the middle of his chest. "Don't you dare hurt him. I don't care if you're an Alpha or not. I will end you." She points at him one more time, then disappears into another room.
Derek shudders, then follows her directions. As soon as he walks in, the Sheriff stands up. "Derek. What are you doing here?"
"I-" Derek forgot why he's here when he sees Stiles laying on the bed, needles and tubes sticking out from him. "Uh."
"Derek?" the Sheriff says. "Why are you here?"
Did Stiles tell him about soul mates? Probably not, or his dad would've asked about that or called Stiles' soul mate. That person who's on the police force. That person who makes Stiles laugh like that.
He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be hundreds of miles away, and probably still driving. He shouldn't be here. Derek shakes his head, clears his mind, and starts to back out of the room. "Apologies. I'm in the wrong room."
"Oh," the Sheriff says. "Give them my sympathies."
Derek stops. "I will." He takes one more look at Stiles, then heads out the door.
Damn soul mates.
He paces the hall for a bit, collecting his thoughts, then, as he's about to push the button on the elevator, he hears a weak voice. "Derek?" Definitely Stiles. "Derek? Please come back. I need to talk to you."
Though he doesn't want to subject himself to even more pain, Derek turns around and goes back to Stiles' room. His dad isn't there, and Stiles is awake. "Derek. You heard me."
Derek nods once, not moving from the one step he took inside the room.
He shouldn't be here.
"Sweet. Let's talk." Stiles sits up with a groan, and Derek plants himself in the Sheriff's now abandoned chair. "So, in case you were wondering, I got into a tiny accident."
"Tiny?" Derek says incredulously, resisting a smile.
"Ha ha, shut up." Stiles shifts to make himself more comfortable. "I hit a deer. Flew out the windshield. Fun times."
Derek sighs (relieved), lifting his feet and placing them on the edge of Stiles' bed. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes. "Since you're going to talk for the next hour about stuff I don't care about, I'm going to take a nap."
Stiles laughs, and rubs his thumb in his palm. "Some people would find that incredibly rude, you know."
"Do I look like I care about other people?"
"Actually, yeah." Derek glares at him. Stiles smiles. "Nice try. You want Scott and Isaac to be happy. You want Allison to become an amazing hunter. You want Lydia to succeed. You may not show it, but I know it's there." Stiles shrugs at Derek's gaping mouth. "Sheriff's son. I pick up on stuff."
Derek snaps his jaw shut, and looks away, picking at his fingernails. "That's not all." Well, that's not what he's supposed to say. What he was supposed to say was, "Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about. You're just some kid," or something like that.
"What do you mean?" Stiles' heartbeat races, and Derek stands up, leaning over the bed. Stiles' eyes go wide, darting between Derek's eyes and lips.
How easy it would be to close the distance, take what Derek wants, has wanted for the past few weeks. (Probably longer if he really examines it.) Stiles doesn't stop him, and Derek watches Stiles' eyes close, mouth open.
Derek thinks he should stop as soon as their lips touch. He's still kissing him as he imagines Stiles' soul mate barging in, shifts when he imagines Stiles either defending or rejecting Derek. Doesn't stop as Stiles lifts and hand and places it on Derek's shoulder, and Derek remembers Stiles laughing at the cafe with that guy. His soul mate.
Stiles has a soul mate. One who isn't you. You can't be with him, and he can't be with you. Stop. Stop now.
Derek pulls back. Stiles still has his eyes closed. So, Derek does what Derek always does.
He runs.
Stiles wants to be upset, wants to be angry, wants to be sad. He doesn't. He feels... nothing. A hollow space in his mind where Parrish usually resides is gone, Derek vanished, and Scott's... Scott's still talking.
"-but Allison totally told him off. It was awesome." Scott is smiling as bright as the sun, so Stiles smiles with him, nodding his head like he's paying attention.
It's times like these when Stiles is lucky to have a friend like Scott. He knows when to be silent and when to never have a moment of silence. Right now, it's the latter. Stiles hums in agreement of Lydia's smarts, laughs when Scott laughs, and replays the crushing disappointment when he opened his eyes and Derek was gone.
He doesn't want to dwell on it. Instead, Stiles focuses on recovering so he can whip Scott's ass in Need for Speed.
"So," Scott says, long speech apparently winding down. "Thursday. That's soon."
"Scott, it's Saturday. Barely past four o'clock," Stiles says. "Plus I have surgery on Monday."
Scott rolls his eyes. "I know. But it was a major accident. You could've gotten really hurt." Stiles hears the fear and worry in Scott's voice.
"Hey, at least Parrish isn't my soul mate anymore. That's a good thing, right?" Stiles rubs his neck, hand a dull pain. "I mean, he could've been in the bed right next to me."
Scott frowns. "Right." He sits down, and pulls out his phone. "What should we get for dinner? I was thinking subs?"
Stiles agrees, and Scott leaves to pick them up. Stiles figures he can sleep for the half-hour Scott would be gone for, so he lays down and closes his eyes.
Of course, he thinks about green eyes and a broad jaw. Sleep doesn't come easily.
Saturday passes. He gets visit from Scott, Allison, and Lydia, who spend most of their visiting time doodling on Stiles' cast. Isaac even comes around by himself a little after they left, finding a small spot near Stiles' foot to write his name. They don't talk much. Stiles doesn't mind, and he thinks Isaac doesn't either.
He's lucky enough that Peter doesn't drop by, but Derek doesn't show his face.
Late, late Saturday night, Stiles wakes up from a nightmare. He's not sure what it was, but he's covered in sweat and his heart is making the monitors beep rapidly. A few nurses check in on him, make sure he's okay, then leave him be.
As he tires to get comfortable, he turns his head to the left, and notices the open window.
"Derek?" He whispers. "Derek is that you?"
No answer.
"Well, if it is," Stiles continues undeterred, "I just want to say that I hate you and you're a jerk. Seriously? What the hell, man? Make up your mind or leave me the hell alone."
Okay, though he just said that, he really doesn't not want to talk to Derek. Derek encourages bad behavior (to an extent), goes along with Stiles' jokes, and even cracks a few jokes of his own.
Stiles doesn't worry about it for too long, because there are lips on his again, and he's frozen, but Derek (hoping to every god and deity it is) is warm and gentle and Stiles wants to push him away, punch him in the nose, then kiss him again.
So he does. Punch him, at least.
"What the hell?" Stiles says, shaking his hand out. Damn, that hurt.
Derek rubs his jaw, eyes staring at the ground. "I'm sorry," he says, starting to back away, the opposite of what Stiles wants. "I won't do that again."
"Holy mixed signals, Batman! Get your ass back in here! Derek!" Stiles whisper-yells, not wanting to alert any medical staff of the unknown visitor. "I swear to God if you jump out of that window!"
He doesn't. Stiles glares at him as he sits down in the chair next to Stiles' hospital bed. Derek stays silent.
"Well, then." Stiles taps his fingers on his leg. "Are we going to talk about it?"
"Nothing to talk about," Derek says, his false bravery easy for Stiles to pick up on.
"Right," Stiles says, drawing the word out. "So you didn't just kiss me? Twice, so far?"
Derek shakes his head. "Nope."
Well, Derek's a big fat liar. (Actually, he's more of a big muscular liar.) Because Stiles' lips are still tingling, and he can feel his skin start to redden from the unshaven beard.
"See, I don't need to have super senses to tell you're lying. It's because I'm awesome, I know." Stiles smiles. Derek looks away. "You do realize I can have a two-way conversation with only myself, right? Because it's totally about to happen and I'm going to make you smile."
Derek now looks unimpressed. Good going, Stiles.
"Start scene. Characters: Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale. Location: Stilinski Household. Time: I think around ten a night." Stiles clears his throat. "In a galaxy, far, far away..."
Derek groans as soon as the words are out of his mouth. "No Star Wars."
"Oh my God, you know Star Wars?" Stiles bounces a little.
"Yes. Get on with the story."
Stiles clears his throat again. "The Stilinski household was always ordinary. No expensive electronics. No fancy fire-place. No high-tech kitchen. There were two people living in that house. Originally three, but the wife and mother passed away when the son was nine. So son and father lived in this ordinary house, living their ordinary lives." Stiles grins, before clamping it down. "And then, everything changed when the fire nation attacked."
"Stiles," Derek snaps, but Stiles wins. There's a small smirk on Derek's face.
Stiles is laughing. He doesn't care if he can't get through a stupid story about his life without a few perfectly placed puns or references to shows and movies. He gets to tell Derek about having a soul mate, how much it sucked, and what happened that night when Stiles was sleep-walking and sick.
"And then the knight saved the prince by lifting him up on his shoulder and carrying him away from what the prince wanted. Sure, the prince could've said something. But the prince was kind of not in the right state of mind to do anything but watch the knight ride off on a black stallion into the night."
Derek's been biting his lips while Stiles tells his story, and it's clear he wants to smile or laugh, but he won't let it happen. Stiles narrows his eyes as he talks about Parrish, taking in the sudden somber expression on Derek's face.
"That's when Sti- I mean, the prince, realized that his king wasn't some person that he was destined to be with. It was the person who he knew. The person who actually was a physical being, not some idea or cuts and bruises. His real king was the knight all along."
Super cheesy ending, but it got the point across. (Stiles thinks, at least.)
Derek still leaves without another word.
Stiles still yells, "Asshole!" at his retreating back.