Summary: Peter needs help and calls Stiles. He knows that no matter what, Stiles is the one who will come through, no questions asked… Well, until later.

I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF OR THE CHARACTERS.

Chapter Fourteen:

"Peter, I'm almost there. Hand tight, alright? I have the herbs. You should be healed up in no time. And no, I didn't have to call Deaton. I know that you don't trust him. Besides, you were pretty clear when you said, 'Don't tell anyone, Stiles.'" I told him, while trying to keep my eyes peeled for a potentially seriously wounded Peter. I slammed on the breaks, when I saw him. He was just lying near the side of the road, with his arms folded behind his head. He looked like he was watching the sunset, more than anything. If I didn't know better, I'd think the black sludge seeping out of his side was just for show.

I ended the call and hurried out of the jeep, after I threw my phone into my pack. I still had the herbs in my bag. I grabbed the ingredients I needed and started chanting the healing spell, as I ground everything into a fine paste. When it was done, I looked at Peter, expectantly. He just raised an eyebrow.

"Jesus Christ, don't you care that you're injured at all?! Sit up and take off your shirt. I didn't come all this way to save you, just to have you die on me." I snapped. He smirked at me, but did as I asked. I cleaned up his side the best I could with the water and antiseptic that I brought with me, before adding the healing paste.

"Thank you for coming, Stiles. I didn't think anyone else would. You're so much more than anyone gives you credit for. Despite my innate inability to trust… I do trust you." He admitted. I didn't say anything, as I finished applying the paste. What does someone even say to that? I didn't even think that Peter was capable of trusting and now he's admitting that he actually trusts me? What are the odds?

"For whatever fucked up reason, I trust you, too. You're one of the only people I know that doesn't underestimate me." I told him.

"Anyone who would underestimate you is a fool." He breathed.

"Yeah, well, you're not gonna hear me arguing with you there." I agreed. "Can you stand? We should get you out of here, before whatever did that to you comes back."

"It won't." He assured me. "I killed it." He said, like it was no big deal/. "When I'm healed properly, remind me to thank you properly."

"Okay, big guy." I uttered, as I helped him to his feet. I put my arm around his waist and helped him walk to my baby.

"I'll take you out and show you just how you should be treated. Aa ravishing young man like yourself should be spoiled and cherished." He thought aloud. I'm not even sure if he meant for me to hear that, or if whatever attacked him is making him delusional. "My thinking was in no way impaired, Stiles. I meant every word, Sweetheart."

Before I could respond, a car came speeding towards us and hurtled to a stop. Derek got out of his car, looking annoyed.

"I've been trying to get ahold of you for hours, Peter." Derek fumed.

"Nephew, the reception is spotty here at best. I did try to reach you." He explained, as Derek finally realized that his uncle was in fact wounded.

"Thank you for everything, Stiles. I owe you more than one. I'll be in touch, once I've healed properly. I meant what I said about taking you out. I may not be much, but I pride myself on being a gentleman." Peter excused himself. "Let me know what you get home safely, Darling." Peter requested, as he pressed a soft kiss against my lips.

"What the hell did I miss?" Derek asked. I just shrugged, because I'm not really sure myself, but I'm not complaining.

"I'm not sure, but I think I like it. Your uncle is hot, Sourwolf."

"Don't call me that!" Derek growled.

"Okay. See ya later… Sourwolf."