Part 2

Stiles had been up all night doing research. He had fallen asleep on the computer desk again and was oblivious to the noises around him. He did not hear the window open, nor the soft, almost undetectable thump of bare feet hitting his carpet. It wasn't until the intruder spoke, that Stiles even realized he was there.

"Stiles" The voice croaked, raspy and broken. Stiles sat up quickly and looked around, his body moving involuntarily and flailing through his waking confusion. Finally, his eyes focused on the object in object in front of him and squinted to be sure he wasn't dreaming.

"Derek?...Holy Shit! Derek!" Stiles shouted, launching himself from his chair and wrapping his arms around the older man. "We went looking for you in Mexico and it was like you had Amnesia… and Kate…Oh that Bitch!... And…" Stiles opened his eyes as the older wolf stood in the hug, a rock, unmoving, but flinching slightly. Stiles stopped talking and surveyed the flesh of the wolf he could see in the hug. All he saw was red, and tears in Derek's flesh. He pulled back immediately to survey further damage.

"It's fine. You shouldn't have gone to Mexico though, it was a danger to the whole pack." Derek's cracked voice was still as stoic as his features, but his hand was shaking at his side.

Stiles ignored Derek's comment and began to walk a circle around Derek, looking at the cuts, scratches and bullet wounds. He reached up and touched a wound that was already starting to heal, a bullet wound. He measured Derek's reaction to the touch of him at the site of the wound. Derek hardly moved. Stiles ran his finger tips gently from the hole in Derek's shoulder to the next bullet wound just below his shoulder blade, he stood next to Derek, feeling the back wound and surveying the rock hard chest and abs for an exit wound. There was none. Stiles looked up at Derek, confused.

"Where did it go?" Stiles asked gently. He was still and quiet for the first time in Derek's presence as he waited for the answer.

"I don't know. I think it is still in there." Derek looked at Stiles, as the young teen realized the weight of the words. Derek wanted him to pull the bullet out.

"Wait…..ummm, why haven't you just pushed the bullet out? You know like Wolverine?" Stiles asked, his hands now up in the air, moving to the speed of his words. He thought he saw a glimmer of sadness cross Derek's face as the loss of his touch, but he must have been dreaming. "And why didn't you ask you pack to pull it out for you?"

Stiles began to notice that Derek was dripping blood onto his carpet. For the first time he noticed that Derek wasn't wearing a shirt, whereas before he had been focused on the wounds, now he was focused on the lack of clothing. Derek was shoeless, which happened often, and his pants hung low on his waist, his briefs peeking from the top.

Stiles eyes traveled from the wounds on Derek's torso, down to the zipper of his pants, and stopped. He chewed his lip, lifting his fist to his mouth trying to hide the curiosity. Derek looked at the young teen with confusion.

"Stiles…..First aid?" Derek's words penetrated the fog that Stiles was in, Derek's fingers snapping in front of Stiles' face.

"What? Yeah. First Aid, in the bathroom" Stiles grabbed Derek's forearm, leading him to the bathroom attached to his room, a habit of being familiar with the other pack members and friends had now extended to Derek. When he realized what he was doing he let go and retracted his hand quickly, as though burned by something. He retracted his energy back into himself and calmed down.

Stiles opened the door to the bathroom, flipping on the light, and motioning to Derek to sit on the other side of the double sink. He began to pull out all the things he would need to help Derek.

Derek pushed himself backwards, sliding onto the counter of the sink, his body rippling as he moved, the pain shooting through him. He looked around the bathroom as Stiles rummaged. He noticed another door at the end of the room, and some beautiful abstract paintings.

"What's with the door and the art?" Derek asked softly, still observing. Stiles kept looking around under the sink.

"The door goes to the other bedroom. My parents wanted to have more kids….but then my mom got sick and it didn't end up that way." He finished grabbing all the things he needed and tossing them into the sink above him. Stiles sat up and looked at Derek smiling, "And the art is mine.". Stiles grabbed a pair of tweezers and a lighter, sterilizing the tweezers.

Derek shifted his weight on the countertop and turned his left towards Stiles, allowing better access to the bullet hole. Stiles pushed around on the hole for a bit, feeling for the metal close to the surface and found it lodged near Derek's shoulder blade.

"Are you sure you don't just want to take this to Deaton? Because I'm not a licensed surgeon and cant I be fined or arrested for illegally practicing medicine? And why would you want me to do this anyway? I am not exactly graceful or gentle….and" Derek turned swiftly and clapped a hand over Stiles mouth. Stiles quieted instantly, not expecting the proximity to be so close. Derek leaned in even closer and whispered to stiles.

"Shut up and pull out the bullet, I need to know who shot me." Derek said simply. Stiles nodded, and Derek removed his hand, turning back to his previous position. Stiles dumped bactine across Derek's wound and then dug into his flesh with the tweezers. He had the bullet out in seconds and dropped it into Derek's waiting hand. The older wolf got up and rinsed off the bullet, looking at the markings, a skull.

"That's a Dia De Los Muertos skull" Stiles pointed out.

"Yes, and I know exactly who shot me." Derek said. He looked down, noticing Stiles had bactine on his chest. "You spilled". HE said as he walked past Stiles and into the other room.

"I what?" Stiles looked down, noticing that he did not spill bactine on a teeshirt, but rather on his bare chest. "How did I forget to put on a shirt?" He decided to take a shower before going back into his room to sleep. He shed his sleep pants, and turned on the water, feeling it for the right temperature. He stepped in, the water cascading down him, relaxing the tension in his body from sleeping at his desk. He hung his head under the stream of water, brushing his fingers through his wet hair, and trying to relax. All he could focus on was Derek and his muscles. He could only think of the sad look Derek had when he stepped away from him. Stiles decided to try work the tension out even faster, gently gripping his hardening cock and stroking. At first, he was slow about it, working the pleasure through his body, feeling every thing. As he got closer to his climax, his strokes became faster and faster, and he couldn't stop himself from moaning a little, imagining Derek in the shower with him, wanting to lick every inch of the older wolf. His closed his eyes and came, moaning loudly as he did so. The tension was gone and he could finally sleep. Derek had been haunting his dreams for a couple of weeks now and Stiles felt more release in giving into the fantasy voluntarily. He finished washing and reached for the towel outside of the shower, wrapping it around his hips and stepping from the shower. He threw his hands in the hamper and walked back into his room, padding over to his dresser for boxers to sleep in. He pulled them on and dropped his towel, turning to his bed.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he realized that Derek was in his bed, eyes closed, asleep.

"Sourwolf" Stiles whispered. Derek did not move. Stiles shrugged and realized that Derek was actually asleep, he just wished that Derek would have taken a shower before ruining his sheets. Stiles shook his head, the thoughts of Derek hard in front him in the shower came back to the front of his mind. He shook those thoughts away, climbing into bed beside Derek. "Think I will let you steal my comfy bed, fat chance asshole." Stiles grumbled as he climbed in and lay on his side, facing the window. He drifted quickly to sleep and comfort through his exhaustion.

Stiles woke again at 5:45am, unusually warm in his bed, he kicked the covers back in his bed but kicked a solid being beside him. He had forgotten Derek was sleeping his bed, no wonder he was so warm. Wolf heat. After kicking off the covers, he realized how close the heat was to him, he could feel warm arms wrapped around him, holding him close to Derek's body. He was too tired to fight with Derek about boundaries so he left it alone and went back to sleep. He woke again at 7am to his alarm clock and was freezing cold. He reached behind him but felt nothing. He sat up and looked around, there was not sign Derek had ever been there except the blood on the carpet. Stiles heart deflated at the idea of being alone again, but he pushed the feelings away and got up to get ready for school.