A.N. I don't own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters!
Parrish hadn't slept in days. He stared blankly at the wall, not thinking or moving except in circles around himself. Someone knocked and Marta must have let them in because he heard footsteps but that was all his mind could register. He probably should have cared who it was or why they were there but.. he didn't. He couldn't. It could have even been the hooded man and he wouldn't have moved from his position on the bed.
"Parrish?" He didn't answer, but the female voice was a relief internally. "...Jordan?" That was more hesitant, more full of worry or maybe even concern? But he groaned in response, to at least show the person he was alive. Melissa opened the door a crack and then stepped in.
"Hey, honey. You look like shit." She opened the curtain-only one, or it would have been too bright-and sat on the edge of the bed near him.
"Jordan, honey. Are you alright?" He just stared at the wall. "Jordan?" She reached out and touched his arm but, somehow, that didn't take the usual thirty seconds to process. Instead, his body jerked him away before he even realized she'd touched him and he hit the wall behind him with a thud. The way her face furrowed into worry was slightly disarming.
"Sorry, hon. I didn't mean to scare you. I just… Please, Jordan, come here. Let me see your eyes." He hesitated, watching her for any sign that she had some kind of agenda, but scooted towards her after a minute. She laid a hand on his cheek, even when he flinched. Slowly, she turned his face to look into his eyes and sighed, rubbing her thumb along his cheek like a mother hen.
"You're as bad as he is, hon. Come on. I talked to John and Stiles is just as bad. He can't heal like this and it doesn't look like you can either. Come on, honey. Stiles needs you." The words were gibberish to him, just the vague warmth of the nickname, but he heard the last part. Stiles needed him. At that, he stood. He suddenly had the energy to move, though only a little bit, and he followed Melissa to her car without question.
"Do you know where Derek lives, honey?" Her voice was gentle and smooth, like a salve over his wounds, and he nodded. He took her phone and found a landmark he knew on the map before following the roads the way he knew to the apartment complex. He didn't know the address, exactly, but he'd driven the route to it a hundred times whenever there was a slow night shift and the sheriff asked him to drive by. Pointing, he handed the phone back to her and she pinpointed the apartment complex with a little nod.
"Thank you, hon. We'll go get him and then I'll take you guys to Stiles."
They stopped outside the familiar building and he waited in the car while she went inside. He couldn't tell how much time passed before she came back, but it felt like centuries. Derek was behind her, dragging his feet and slurring his steps as bad as his words. His eyes were blurred and red, his face was shallow and empty. When Melissa guided him into the backseat, Parrish immediately felt his presence. He relaxed, even if it wasn't enough to sleep.
Between then, and stopping outside of Stiles' house, there was an infinite amount of space. It wasn't literal space, or space in time. But it was space in his head-empty, where thoughts should have been-that seemed to pass like years when it should have been seconds. The only thing occupying the space was his awareness of Derek sitting behind him, his heartbeat fighting back the silence.
When they stopped, Melissa helped them both out of the car and leaned them on each other before leading them up to the front door. She knocked, but opened it before anyone came. Inside, the sheriff glared but Melissa made eye contact and, apparently, won because the sheriff turned away and went upstairs.
"It's okay, boys. I talked to him. He'll get over himself eventually." She led them into a living room where Stiles was huddled in a ball on the couch, still covered in bandages. At the sight of them, Stiles' face lit up a bit-though, that wasn't saying much. He offered a weak, exhausted smile. The silence was suffocating as they all stood, as if waiting for permission or something.
"Go on, boys. Stiles, let me help you sit up." She did, gently pushing Derek down beside him and Parrish on the other side. They curled into Stiles without her instruction, each taking an arm and hugging it like a child cuddling a teddy bear, and Stiles twisted as much as his injuries would allow. He threw his legs across Derek's lap and slid his head down onto Parrish's shoulder, sighing as he settled.
"Sleep tight, boys. Just yell if you need anything, okay?" None of them nodded, but they didn't need to. She just excused herself quietly to the next room. He curled his legs in and nuzzled Stiles' throat but he didn't realize how… primal that was until he felt it in his gut. But he was tired. No, exhausted. And he didn't care to figure out his emotions or his thoughts especially not towards Stiles when he was relaxed and able to sleep. He let out a deep breath. A hand covered his on Stiles' chest but it was broad, calloused, and strong-Derek's hand. With a squeeze of reassurance from Derek, he was asleep.
Thanks for reading! I really like Melissa as a surrogate mother to Derek and Jordan as well as Stiles. Thoughts? As always, please review, follow, favorite, and share!
