Dawg Day Afternoon

"So, wait. You remember some mysterious woman on a motorcycle saved your life, but you don't remember where she found you, or where you'd been for the past day and a half?" Stiles scoffed, hovering between Scott and Derek as they stood interrogating Isaac, who was sat nervous and confused on the couch, looking up at them.

"You don't know why Derek's sister attacked you at the hospital?"

Stiles and Derek's head snapped around at the same moment, brows judging as they stared at Scott, who at least had the common decency to look sheepish. It was almost like looking into the face of his best friend again, Stiles thought and smiled.

"We'll find her." Derek grunted, "We'll find both of them and get some answers. What did this woman on the bike look like?"

Isaac closed his eyes, brows knitting together in concentration. "African-American." he started, "I…I didn't really get a good look at her face. She was wearing a helmet,"

"Then how do you know she's African-American?" Stiles pressed.

"I saw her hands and the back of her neck. And she was seriously strong, but… I don't think she was a werewolf."

"Anything else?" Scott pressed.

"A tattoo," Isaac nodded, "on the back of her neck. It looked like…" he shook his head, then looked up at his three observers. "It looked like a barcode."

Stiles flinched, all the air leaving his lungs in one swift movement, as if he'd been punched hard in the gut, causing his head to spin.

His hands began to shake while his heart slammed over and over into his ribs, looking for escape. Was the room spinning? Yes, yes it was. Was he even still standing anymore? He looked down, but his vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the shadows. He tried to swallow but couldn't make his throat work. When had it gotten so hot in here?

Stiles clawed at his t-shirt and blinked, desperately trying to clear his vision. Trying to fight away the encroaching darkness.

"Stiles?"

That was Scott. Why was Scott there? Where the hell am I?

Stiles felt strong hands on his arms and then he was floating, floating through the air. He landed on a cloud, a nice comfy cloud, but there was still no air.

How could he be on a cloud with no air?

"Stiles, calm down."

Derek? That was Derek. Was he on the cloud too? No, Derek couldn't be on a cloud, he hated flying.

"Stiles, you have to calm down." Derek ordered, pressing a hand into his chest. Pushing him into the cloud. "Just take it slow. In and Out, Stiles. In. Out. - It's fine. You're safe, Stiles. You're safe."

He's safe. Safe with Derek. Because Derek knows. He knows it all. Derek knows what he is, and he doesn't care. But they're here. They've finally come for him, just as mom said. But I'm not ready. I'm not strong enough to fight them. They're going to take me away. Away from Dad. Away from Scott. - Away from Derek.

"Stiles you're safe!" Derek snapped.

He sounds angry. Derek always sounds angry. Sourwolf. Grumpy McGrumpyson.

"What are you doing?"

Now Scott is angry, great. Scott shouldn't be angry. Scott should be chill, he's practically a Buddhist, a Buddhist werewolf. But he's angry. He's always angry now. Always angry with me. Always angry with Derek. Angry that I like Derek. "Ahhhhh!" Stiles screamed.

"Focus on the pain." Derek ordered.

"What are you doing! He's human, Derek. You can't…"

"Stiles, the pain. Focus on the pain!"

Pain. Owe, fuck that hurt. "W-what the f-fuck Derek!" he snapped, breathlessly, eyes snapping to glare at the werewolf, "Ow, ow, ow." he hissed, watching as Derek pulled his hand away from Stiles leg, claws bloody. Bloody, shit. Stiles lifted his head, staring down at the blood staining his thigh. Another pair of pants hit the dust, great.

The sound of cracking plaster board had Stiles' head snapping around to find Scott with his fingers wrapped around Derek's throat.

Oh shit. Stiles shoved himself up, wincing at the pain in his head, chest and leg. A significant pounding was starting behind his eyes. A damn migraine, great. Fuck he hated panic attacks.

"He's human!" Snarled Scott, "You can't do that to a human, especially not Stiles!"

"Woah, dude." Stiles yelled, pushing himself off the couch. He swayed a little and had to close his eyes for a second to get his bearings. "Scott, let him go."

"I told him not to trust you. I told him you were dangerous! You're no better than Peter!"

Stiles winced at the loud roar and stared at the two werewolves. He probably should be surprised that Derek wasn't ripping Scott to pieces, but he wasn't, because despite what Scott wanted to believe, Derek really wasn't like Peter. Not even a little. "Scott, man, let him go. I'm fine."

"No!"

Rolling his eyes, Stiles glanced over to Isaac, who was stood awkwardly off to the side. He looked so torn and Stiles sympathized. It's hard being caught in the middle. Trapped between his loyalty to Derek as his alpha, and to Scott as his friend.

Sighing, Stiles hobbled over, hissing between his teeth. While he had enhanced healing, it wasn't nearly as quick to kick in as a werewolf's, especially deep wounds like the one Derek had given him. "Scott man, I'm fine. Let him go." he tugged on Scott's arm hard, yanking it away from the alpha.

Scott's head twisted to fix Stiles with an accusatory stare, as if Stiles stopping Scott from strangling Derek was somehow breaking the bro-code or something. Then his eyes dropped to where Stiles was still pulling on his arms, and his brows furrowed. A millisecond later, Scott's gaze shot up, locking with Stiles once more, his nose wrinkling as he sniffed the air, confused.

Stiles pulled his hand back, dropping it to his side and breaking the intense stare. "I'm…fine."

Scott narrowed his eyes, searching Stiles face, then he took an unsteady step back. "What…?" he looked between Stiles and Derek repeatedly for thirty seconds before finally settling on Derek. "What did you do to him?"

Derek sighed warily, straightening up from the wall and folding his arms. "I didn't do anything to him. Stiles is exactly the same as he's always been."

Stiles inhaled a deep breath, shifting awkwardly, "Scott, I uh…"

Taking a step closer, Scott sniffed at the air again, narrowing his eyes. "What are you?"

Stiles opened his mouth to answer. To tell Scott everything he'd told Derek over a month ago, but the words just wouldn't come, they wrapped around his windpipe and refused to budge. His mouth closed with a loud click, and Stiles' shoulders slumped.

He hated the hurt look that blossomed on Scott's face, but he just couldn't bring himself to tell his friend, his ex-friend, what he was. If there was one thing Stiles had learnt over the last year, it was that Scott, when put under the right amount of pressure, couldn't be trusted.

"Fine." Scott whispered, voice breaking. He looked from Stiles to Isaac, to Derek. "Fine." he repeated, harder this time and marched angrily out of the house. Stiles closed his eyes, inhaling deeply against the pain in his chest.

"Isaac," Derek said gently, "You should go and rest, we'll talk later."

"Uh," Isaac stammered and Stiles could feel his gaze on him, "Okay."

With his eyes still closed, the sting of regretful tears behind his lids, Stiles listened to Isaac's footsteps on the hardwood floor and then the creak of the stairs at he headed for his room.

"Stiles?" Derek said quietly, hand on his shoulder.

Swallowing thickly, Stiles opened his eyes, "Yeah." he sighed, tiredly.

"I should drive you home." Derek announced, eyes flickering meaningfully to the stairs. Stiles nodded, "Thanks."

Derek led him out to the jeep and held out his hands for the keys. Stiles stared at the hand, brow raised, "Actually I can drive myself."

Derek stared at him unimpressed, "You just had a panic attack and your leg hasn't healed yet." he looked meaningfully down at the bloody thigh, "We either take the Camaro, and you walk back here tomorrow to pick up this rust bucket, or I drive."

"See now that's why you don't get to drive," Stiles pointed out indignantly, "Rosco is not a rust bucket."

Turning to stare at the jeep, Derek scoffed, as he dragged a clawed finger across a small patch of rust on the door.

"Shut up." Stiles grumbled, tossing the keys to Derek. If the jeep wasn't in the drive when his dad got home, he'd want to know where it was, and Stiles was in no mood for another argument concerning his friendship with Derek.

Shuffling around to the other side of the jeep, Stiles pulled himself into the unfamiliar passenger seat and shot Derek daggers when the alpha slammed Rosco's door a little too hard. "Hey."

It took three attempts to start the engine, each one occupied but a judgmental, smug look from Derek. "Don't give me that look, dude. She's just temperamental is all, kinda like you." that earned him another death glare, but then the engine was rumbling to life and Derek grumbled under his breath as he backed the jeep away from the house.

"You remember I said I've got enhanced hearing, right?" Stiles reminded the alpha before punching him hard in the arm.

They drove in a comfortable silence, Stiles staring thoughtfully out the window, for ten minutes before Rosco decides to provide Derek with more ammunition to disrespect her by breaking down. Derek turned his head, smirking before shoving open to door and climbing out.

"Seriously," Stiles grunted, tapping the dash, "are you trying to humiliate me? What did I ever do to you, huh? Other than love you."

"It's probably tired of your out of tune singing and this I'd its way of begging to be put out of its misery!" Derek called back while lifting the hood, startling him.

Stiles shoved open the door and limped around to glare at the alpha, "How dare you! Firstly, my singing is magical. I have a voice of an Angel."

Derek smirked, "If there's an angel in heaven singing like you, they should confiscate its harp and find it a new job."

"Rude. Like your singing is any better. Are you sure you're a werewolf, because you sing like a drowning cat."

They stand there for a few second just staring before Derek mutters nonsensically and prompted, "And secondly?"

Stiles huffed a laugh, "secondly Mutly, secondly..." He trailed off, confused as whatever he was going to say evaporates.

Derek grinned while watching Stiles scramble about in his brain for whatever he was going to say. "Yes?"

"And secondly... shut up."

Derek huffed a laugh, dropping his attention to the engine.

Stiles hobbled back to the front seat and returned with a wrench. "Here."

Taking the thing, Derek began to dig around in Rosco's innards, while Stiles leant on the other side watching him.

"I don't know why I'm surprised you know how to fix an engine," Stiles remarked, mostly to himself.

"I had a part time job at a garage in New York."

"To help pay for college?" Stiles quizzed.

Derek looked up throe his lashes, "Is there something you want to know?"

Stiles laughed, "This is me, Derek. I want to know everything. Like, did you go to college? What did you study? Where did you live? Did you have a girlfriend?"

Derek straightened, staring at the teenager, "We spent over a month together and now you're asking about my past?"

Stiles shrugged, "It never really felt like the right time."

Taking a breath Derek went back to the engine. "Yes, History and pre-law, Queens, no."

"Pre-law?" Stiles gaped, "Sorry man, I just don't see you as a lawyer."

"Neither did I," Derek sighed, "But Laura made me promise to see it through. She had this fantasy of us opening our own law firm."

"Laura was a lawyer?"

Derek nodded, "Second year at Colombia when..."

"And history?" Stiles asked, changing the subject at the look of pain on Derek's face.

"I like history," Derek replied, "You can learn a lot from the dead."

Stiles pressed his lips into a thin line, hating that the good humor of a few moments ago was gone. Determine to get it back and keep Derek sharing, because sharing is caring, Stiles pressed on with more questions. He just had to avoid anything that would bring Derek's thoughts back to his dead family. "So, Queens? What was that like? Did everyone talk like Fran from the Nanny?"

Derek raised a brow, "The nanny?"

"Hey, you do not get to judge my taste in TV shows Mr. Grease-Two."

"It's the better movie,"

"So you said," Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. "So...?"

"I didn't really talk to many people."

"Shocker." Stiles laughed.

Derek flipped him the bird, "I was focused on my studies. My neighbor was Mrs. Dennison and her two daughters were from Texas, and the man in the coffee shop down the street sounded like he was from the Bronx. - Try the engine." He ordered.

Stiles limped around to the driver's side and climbed behind the wheel with a hiss. He twisted the key and Rosco splattered and coughed. Derek muttered again and vanished behind the raised hood.

Tapping his fingers on the wheel, Stiles watched what little of Derek he could see, which was pretty much just the swell of ass and legs. "So, you never dated?"

"What?"

Stiles poked his head out of the window, "You never dated?"

"I said I didn't have a girlfriend, not that I hadn't dated."

"You said you were focused on your studies." Stiles argued, "I took that to mean you didn't leave the house."

Derek peeked over the good, "I meant I didn't socialize with my neighbors." he clarified, "or go to keggers, but I had friends."

Stiles brows shot to his hairline, "Wow. I can honestly say my mind is blown." He gapped, "So you had friends and you dated, but you didn't have a long-term girlfriend? Out there playing the field, you horny werewolf you."

"Engine!"

This time Rosco started on the first try and Stiles wasn't sure if he felt relieved or regretful. "I'm driving, she clearly hates you."

Derek opened his mouth to argue and Stiles hurriedly added, "My leg is feeling better, and you can ride along to make sure I don't crash into a tree or something."

Reluctantly and with more Mutly mutters, Derek got into the passenger seat, and Stiles pulled away from the side of the road.

"Actually," Derek said suddenly a few seconds later, "I said I didn't have a girlfriend, not that I wasn't... going steady with anyone."

The jeep swerved as Stiles head snapped around to stare at Derek, eyes comically wide, "You're gay?" He all but shouted.

Derek smirked, not looking at him. "No."

"Bi?"

Derek shrugged, "I guess. Though I've only dated one guy in my life."

Stiles was struggling to keep his eye on the road. "Wow, bi. - So, who was he? Were you guys still together when you moved back here? Is this a long-distance thing? Does he know you're a werewolf? How did that go down?"

"You realize that if I answer all of those questions, I get to interrogate you in exchange?"

"You already know everything there is to know about me, man. My deepest darkest secret."

"Why did you have a panic attack when Isaac mentioned the tattoo?"

The jeep swerved again and Stiles inhaled sharply, head snapping around to fix Derek with a pleading gaze. He wasn't ready to answer that yet.

"His name was Nick Sorrentino, he was the cousin to my only friend in New York, Clay."

Stiles exhaled a long breath and focused on the road, relaxing in the seat. "Oh. - Are you guys still…?"

Derek shook his head, "We broke up years ago, it wasn't anything really serious."

Stiles glanced sideways at Derek, "Really? You don't sound so sure?"

It was Derek's turn to stiffen, "I… I apparently have trust issues."

Stiles scoffed, "Yeah, understandable. You know, with what happened."

Derek looked at him, confused.

"With Kate." Stiles clarified, and Derek flinched.

"How did you know?"

Stiles frowned, "Know?"

There was a tense moment where they just stared at each other, and then the jeep was rolling off the side of the road, crashing into a tree.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles came around with a pounding headache and blood in his eyes. He lifted his hand and swiped it away, clearing his vision to take in his surroundings. Turning his head, he saw Derek, head hanging forward, limp with his eyes closed and dried blood at his temple. Whatever wound had been there was already healed.

Wincing Stiles reached out his hand, and gave the alpha a shove, "Derek? Derek, wake up."

It took a few seconds but finally the werewolves eyes opened, flashing red for a second before turning to focus on Stiles. "What happened?"

Stiles shook his head, "Not a clue, but I'm trapped."

Derek clambered out of the jeep and hurried around to Stiles side, ripping the door open, "Are you alright to move?" he asked before reaching in. When Stiles gave him a nod, he slid one arm under Stiles legs and the other behind his back, lifting him free. He carried him a few feet away and then looked over at the jeep. "Rosco's had it."

Stiles stared sadly at the dented, crumpled exterior of his beloved car. "Fuck." he whispered, voice breaking.

"I'm sorry."

Stiles sniffed, shaking his head. "Grab my…cell."

Derek patted down the pockets of Stiles jeans, "Are you alright?" he asked while searching.

"I think I've broken my arm, and a couple of ribs."

"But your healing?" Derek said, pulling the cellphone from Stiles pocket.

"I have enhanced heal, not superhuman healing. It still takes time." he sucked in a pained breath, "Call my dad, his direct line, not the station."

"I think you should do it." Derek insisted, holding out the cell.

Nodding, Stiles shakily took the cell and thumbed through the contacts single handed, panting, "I might have punctured a lung,"

Derek snatched the cell from his hand and pressed it to his ear, listening to it ring out.

"Yes Stiles." The Sheriff said warily.

"Uh, Sheriff, its Derek Hale."

"Hale?" The Sheriff's voice suddenly sounded tight and panicked, "What are you doing with my son's phone?" he demanded accusingly, and Derek looked down at Stiles murderously. Stiles simply smirked.

"Stiles is here with me." Derek reassured quickly.

"H-hey dad!" Stiles called weakly.

"There's been an accident. The jeep is currently wrapped around a tree, five miles out of town."

"Is Stiles alright?" The Sheriff demanded. There was the muffled sound of voices, and Derek could distinctly hear the slam of doors.

"He's got a broken arm, possibly a few broken ribs and a suspected punctured lung."

"Have you called an ambulance?"

"Stiles insisted I call you directly."

There was a long moment before the man sighed, "Is he conscious? Can I talk to him?"

Derek lowered the phone to the teenager's ear. "Hey pops." Stiles greeted weakly.

"I'm on my way, Stiles."

"Okay, dad. That's go…" Stiles trailed off, losing consciousness.

"He's passed out, sir, but he's still breathing."

"The ambulance is on its way, it should be with you in a few minutes. I'm hanging up now. - Oh, and Hale, I'm trusting you to stay with him."

"Of course, sir." Derek replied instantly, staring down at the teenager in his lap.

The line went dead, and Derek tossed the cell on the grass beside him, pressing his hand against Stiles blood covered head and absorbing the pain. He watched at the black lines snaked their way through his forearms. In the shadows of the large trees, Derek listened intently for the sound of sirens. When Stiles stirred against his lap, Derek swept his fingers through his hair comfortingly. "Your dad and the ambulance are on their way. Not long now. How are you feeling?"

"Like I hit a tree, but it's getting better." Stiles struggled to say.

"I don't think your dad is too happy I'm with you." Derek remarked. He'd heard the hint of suspicion in the older man's voice.

"He's just pissed because he doesn't want me hanging out with a 'person of interest'."

Derek sighed, "I thought we cleared all that up."

"Y-you did," Stiles huffed, wheezing, "but then two teenagers disappeared, and you were the last person they were seen with, putting you back at the top of dad's person of interest list." Stiles sucked in a breath, gasping as he exhaled, "He w-wasn't h-happy that I was h-helping y-you over the summer."

"You said…"

"I said he knew, I d-didn't s-say he approved." Stiles smirked, attempting to chuckle.

Derek groaned, shaking his head. "Great."

"D-don't worry, I c-convinced him that my h-helping you gave m-me the prefect c-cover to sniff around. F-find out w-what you knew about Erica and B-Boyd." he gave another heaving cough and gasped for air.

Derek rolled his eyes, amused. "Of course, you did." he gave his head a subtle shake. He pressed his hand back to Stiles head, drawing the pain away once more.

"W-we need to think of a-a cover s-story." Stiles said after a few minutes.

"What?" Derek frowned, too focused on helping the teenager.

"You h-haven't got a s-scratch." Stiles panted, "Dad will w-want to k-know how y-you found me."

"I'll tell him I was out for a run and came across the accident." Derek reassured matter-of-factly.

"R-running?" Stiles huffed, "In boots?"

Derek raised a brow and shrugged. "I think your dad will have more important things on his mind than what I'm wearing on my feet."

"I wouldn't b-be so sure, man. Dad's pretty observant."

"Fine, I'll tell him I was taking a walk." Derek sighed, warily. "I'm the town hermit, I do weird thinks like take long walks in the woods and drag annoying teenagers from car accidents."

Stiles huffed a laugh that swiftly became a chorus of violent wet coughs.

"Now shut up." Derek ordered.

There was a long silence, but Stiles being Stiles was completely opposed to silence. "A-any idea w-what hit us?"

Derek sighed, rolling his eyes. He shook his head, "I didn't see,"

"M-me neither."

Lifting his nose, Derek sniffed the air. "Deer." he said after a few seconds, "Dead a few feet away."

"Deer?" Stiles frowned, twisting his head to look back towards the road. "Another one." he hummed.

"Another one?"

Looking back up at Derek, he panted, nodding. "A deer went through a couple's car window Friday night." Stiles breathing eased slightly, but Derek could still hear the wetness in his voice. "And Lydia's dog bit her…"

"Dogs bite, Stiles."

The teenager shook his head, "Not Prada. According to Lydia it's never so much as taken a swipe at her before." he paused, breathing heavily, eyes closed.

"Stiles?" Derek asked, worriedly. "You need to shut up."

"T-then there was the c-crows."

"What crows?" Derek asked.

"The c-crows that k-killed themselves in m-my class r-room t-today." Stiles gulped in fresh breath and then coughed up blood.

"Okay Stiles," Derek said sharply, "Now you really have to just shut up," he wiped the blood from Stiles mouth, clamping his palm down over it when Stiles opened it to argue. "No. We'll talk about this later, when you haven't got a punctured lung."

As if in answer to Derek's prayers, the distant sound of sirens filled the air and he breathed a sigh of relief.


A/N: You thought I was going to have Derek's kiss him during the panic attack, didn't you? Sorry guys, too soon for the smooches. Congratulations if you spotted Nick Sorrentino and Clay are from the series Bitten. I did debate whether to use them, but frankly I've had this head-canon about Derek and Clay being friends in New York since I first watched Bitten a few months ago. So, this is a kind of mini crossover, but don't get your hopes up for a full-blown crossover. I don't plan on bringing Nick or Clay into the fic. (I don't think)

Feedback would be appreciated, thank you.