Ben hadn't been around in a few days, and Stiles was starting to get worried. Ben had done this before, but after seeing him in the day time, he'd sort of just claimed him and cared and was concerned more for the mutt now. He was thinking of going to search for him, but he didn't know where to start, or even how to. It's not like he knew the dog's real name, or if he belonged to a family, even though he almost knew he didn't, just by a feeling alone. Speaking of feeling alone; he did again. He could talk to Scott, but he wasn't sure if he was fully adjusted to him liking guys yet, but he seemed to be cool with it, and he was overly thankful for that.
"Scott, are you sure you don't know how to talk to animals, yet?" He asked, shifting gears with the phone held between his cheek and shoulder, slowing down and turning into a hidden road that showed the way down a long, tree encased drive.
"No, not really. I can't find them. Sorry, Stiles. But seriously, he's just a dog." Scott told him bluntly, grunting when his mother hit him on the back of the head, making him drop the sandwich he was about to take a bite of, mouthing that the dog meant a lot to his best friend and to be more sensitive.
"Thank you, Melissa." Stiles chuckled, knowing exactly what happened, the noise always coming out of Scott's mouth whenever he was lovingly smacked by his mother.
The young werewolf rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the small smile, "Just look for him if you must, but please be careful."
"Careful's my middle name." The quirky teen said with an amused tone before hanging up the phone, going down the road, bouncing a bit as his Jeep hit about every little bump in the road. He took a deep breath when he reached the clearing, charred remains of a house making him shiver.
He looked down to park and unbuckle, but something moving swiftly away from the rundown building caught his eyes. He leaned himself over, sticking a hand out the window, yelling to the only person he knew it could be.
"Derek! Hey, hold on." He turned off the engine and tried to get out, flailing a bit when the seat belt held him in the car. After unbuckling and successfully getting himself out of his vehicle, he jogged up to Derek, astonished at what he saw.
The wolf had dark bags under his eyes, usually sharp eyes looking a bit hazy, and skin looking flushed and cold. The only time Stiles had seen him like this before was when dying because of a wolf's bane bullet. Stiles was suddenly struck with fear and a bad feeling in his stomach; was Derek dying again? He instantly started rambling about what could have happened, if the other was okay, and what they could do to save him.
"Stiles, I'm not dying. I just haven't slept, that's all." The older teen shrugged his feelings off, choosing this wasn't the right moment to pour out his heart, knowing the kid would hate him because of the truth.
"But you look horrible!" The lacrosse player blurted out of concern, realizing he'd said something wrong when the wolf started to walk away. He groaned in frustration at himself, turning and grabbing the other's wrist, Derek cringing and stopping himself from whimpering. He'd kept himself from healing for days, reminding himself that needed to keep his behavior under control for Stiles. He was not a monster, he wanted to be a realistic option for the smaller teen.
"Woah, are you okay?" The kid asked him, gently pulling him closer and gasping when he saw his hands. Cuts and dried blood all over his palms and fingers, a few shards of something shiny still in the wounds. Stiles looked up at him, shocked expression on his face, Derek's eyes fixed on the ground.
The younger teen didn't ask even though he desperately wanted to know, holding his wrist up and checking to see if the other hand was like that, too. It was. He took the wolf by the front of his leather jacket, pulling him over to his Jeep and opening up the back, taking out a first-aid kit. He heard Derek scoff, but not do anything to protest. They made no eye contact while the younger teen lead him into his house, to what Stiles thought used to be the living room. Sitting Derek down on the couch, he noticed the broken mirror as he pulled up a crate and sat down, almost knees to knees with the other teen.
"Take off your jacket." He mumbled, opening the kit and taking out what he needed.
The wold didn't as he was told, exhaling deeply at taking the fabric over his hands. It was a very human-like pain, and he thought it would make him better. It was like he was training himself. He carefully fixed the long sleeves of his shirt, and stayed silent, watching Stiles. The kid took his hand in his, palm holding the back of Derek's hand, alcohol swab being set to his skin, making him hiss and tug away. Stiles looked up at him with an apologetic expression, holding out his palm again if Derek wanted the help. The older teen set their hands together again haphazardly. Stiles was more careful with him this time, gently blowing on his hand while he got used to the initial burn of the alcohol, not having to to after only a few moments.
"You broke the mirror," He said quietly, grabbing tweezers out of the kit and gently starting to pick out the shards, "Why?"
"Because I wanted to." Derek mumbled, gritting his teeth as the kid pulled out a shard rather long, and he knew it was the one that had been rubbing painfully against the ball of his thumb that connected to his wrist, making it hard for him to open his hand all the way or grip something too tightly.
"Alright," Stiles nodded, accepting the answer, happy he at least got one, "Why aren't you healing?"
"I didn't want to." The wolf answered simply again, watching the kid take out the last few shards of mirror, then grab some gauze and hold slight pressure to stop the bleeding that had started.
"Doesn't it hurt?" He asked, wondering how the pain was. Did aspirin work for werewolves? There was a bottle in the first-aid kit, after all.
"It's a very human-like pain, yes." Derek nodded, feeling good that he gotten to answer one of Stiles' questions in person.
"I'm sorry." The kid whispered, softly bandaging the wolf's hand, then starting on the other one. It took longer, the older teen pulling away more from the pain, which he couldn't say much about. He bandaged him up again up, then had him hold his hands side by side. He grabbed an instant ice pack and broke it over his knee, shaking it before setting it on the wolf's hands.
"For the swelling." He said when Derek looked at him questioningly, then sat back a bit on the crate, and sighed, "So, did anything attack you or...?"
"No, I wasn't attacked."
"Well, are you okay?"
No. It was a simple answer, but should he really go with it? Maybe he should just lie again. He looked up into those sandy brown eyes, wanting nothing more than to kiss him, tell him everything, and then kiss him again. But he decided to go with something that would make Stiles happy. Stiles liked the truth, "No, not really."
"Will you tell me what's wrong?"
"...No."
"Derek," Stiles reached out for his hands, bumping the wolf's broken knuckle, making him hiss and actually close his eyes at how bad it hurt him, "What's wrong?"
"N-Nothing," The wolf willed his eyes to open again, seeing how concerned the kid looked, "It's my knuckle, but I'll be fine."
"Yeah, right. Let me see." He took the ice pack from him, turning over his hands, pulling the bandage back a little to show his knuckles. A large black and blue bruise covered the knuckle and fanned out with color, dark red in pooled blood. It was not good. How did Derek deal with this stuff?
"How did you get this?" Stiles asked, holding his hand in both of his own, not daring to touch the finger of his hurt knuckle, afraid of causing him more pain. Derek looked over at the mantel, a pile of in crumbles of it on the floor, Stiles' eyes following and his mood plummeting, "Oh, Derek..."
"Stiles, there's something I wanna talk about with you." The wolf blurted suddenly, setting his free hand on the kid's knee, shifting his seating to be ready to tell him everything.
"Sure, I just wanna make sure you're-" The younger teen turned his head back and looked down, stopping short, eyes catching something that made his brain start to spark.
"...Stiles?"
"What are you doing with that?" He pointed to Derek's wrist, green bracelet being revealed from where it was hidden under the thin cotton of his long sleeve, it had rode up after he'd adjusted his seating.
"I-I... Stiles, it's not... I'm s-"
"You bastard!" The kid stood up, pushing himself away from the other teen, "It's all starting to make sense. I was an idiot not to see it before."
"You weren't an idiot, you needed someone to talk to and I just... I knew you wouldn't talk to me, and-"
"Damn right, I wouldn't talk to you! Oh, God, all the things I told you. I-I told you everything." All the realization came to him; he didn't know what to do.
"Stiles..." Derek rose from his seat, stepping toward him. The younger teen reacted and tripped back, onto the floor, hand sticking into one of the broken shards of mirror on the floor. He cringed and quickly went to help Stiles up.
"No, d-don't touch me. Don't come around me. J-Just don't." The kid picked himself up shakily, holding his now bleeding hand to his chest, backing out of the living room and fumbling for the doorknob.
He got outside, and that's when the tears started to fall out of frustration as he searched for his keys, groaning and kicking his Jeep when he saw they were in the ignition. He let out a sob and wiped his eyes and got in his car, starting it up and making his way fast out of Derek's very long earshot, bypassing going to his house, driving right to the hospital and asking for Scott's mom, pretending all the pain and tears were from his hand.