AN I don't own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters. Also, sorry for shortness.


When Parrish woke up, it was light out. The world had narrowed long before that moment-somewhere because hospital beds and watching Stiles walk away-into little pinpoints of information. Waking up. Noticing the light outside. Feeling Derek in the room with him. He didn't really care to comprehend anything more than that, to be honest. Content to lay there and fall back asleep again, he didn't open his eyes or move but he forgot about the stupid wolf senses. Derek must have heard his heartrate change. He sat up in the bed.

Derek didn't say a word, just took his hand and gestured towards the door. Parrish followed without a word and slid into the passenger seat of the camaro. Derek swerved a bit and gripped the wheel too tight but they pulled up in front of an apartment building in one piece and really that was all Parrish could ask for. Derek led him to a loft on the top floor and let him in. Without so much as a hello, Derek led him to the bedroom and motioned to the bed, which Parrish gratefully crashed onto. It smelled like Derek and that alone put him sleep almost instantly. Derek lay down beside him, not touching but close enough in the smallish bed that he could feel his warmth and his breathing, and that was it for Parrish. He was out like a light.


When Parrish woke up, it was light outside. Again, that was the first thing he noticed and seemed to focus on it. He glanced at the clock and saw a four but it was too bright to be four am which mean it was four in the afternoon. Well damn. He really was exhausted. He made food with what little food Derek had-toast with jam, and two eggs-and he had it ready for Derek when he approached silently from the bedroom in just sweats. Parrish looked without shame, sliding over the creases in the muscle and hesitating on the scars. They watched TV and didn't really talk, and after a few hours, they were both still exhausted enough that they went back to sleep again but not before they both texted Stiles to check in with him.


When they saw Stiles the next time, they both seemed a bit brighter and more alive which only made Stiles look worse. His dad was against it but Stiles was irritable and moody from sleep deprivation and he'd mostly healed. His confidence returned, or at least it looked like it had, when he stood between Parrish and Derek like they were his bodyguards. And he was nineteen so, when he dad yelled that he wasn't going to leave the house, Stiles did it anyways. He promised to be careful, over the sound of his dad's yelling, and promised to let Melissa know where he was going but he didn't appear to have any regrets. He told them that he didn't in the car ride home.

When they got to Derek's loft, Parrish couldn't help noticing the way Stiles moved around it like it was familiar and that Stiles knew where the bedroom was without asking. He was exhausted, though, and looked half dead so Parrish didn't ask. When Stiles collapsed onto the bed in the middle, neither he nor Derek had to even make eye contact before taking their respective sides and each hugging or curling into him in their own way.

Stiles was asleep within minutes, but both of them were well rested and awake for once. Once it became clear that Stiles was completely out, Derek raised his voice to a whisper, though it felt like a shout in the silence.

"Hey, how's your hand?"

"Better, thank you. Infected, at first, but almost healed now. Your skin?" Across the mattress, Derek let out a small sigh.

"I healed the day we got out." Right a werewolf, he was a werewolf, and werewolf healed faster. Parrish kept forgetting that.

"Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you get the nightmares too?" There was a long pause, in which Derek seemed to be considering something, and Parrish noted that Derek was tracing slow patterns on Stiles' arm. But Parrish didn't understand what made it such a complicated question. He either did or he didn't, right?

"Not when I'm with you." It was clear from his tone that the you meant him and Stiles, not just him. It was weird, but hearing that didn't feel weird. It felt… normal. Like he and Stiles were just meant to be lumped together into a single word.

"Why," Derek fired back. "Do you?" Parrish bit his lip. It wasn't really fair to ask that and not answer it in return but he hadn't planned on Derek turning the question back on him.

"Not when I'm with you." Derek nodded, as if to say it was settled then. Parrish wasn't sure if Derek could tell, but he didn't plan on spending a night alone again for a very long time-if ever. There was a long bout of silence that let Parrish get lost in this thoughts, wondering about Stiles and assessing bandages and trying to remember if he had any spare clothes at Derek's or not, but Derek's voice startled him out of it. He almost jumped, but stopped himself at the last minute to keep from waking Stiles.

"Hey Parrish?" For a deputy and an older (he thinks) man than Derek, Parrish was practically submissive. Maybe it was because Derek had saved them all or maybe it was because he was just so fucking tired of feeling weak and out of control but he didn't hate it. He actually kind of liked it.

"Yeah?"

"Can I call you Jordan?" That surprised him more than pretty much any question Derek could have asked. He had expected any number of things from injuries to pasts to what kind of jam he'd used on the toast that morning but he hadn't expected that. Derek had called him Jordan already, actually, but that, it seemed, was more for shock value and impact then than actually calling him it for real. He'd gone back to Parrish as soon as they'd made it to the hospital. But it was Derek for crying out loud! He'd saved them.

"Why would you think that you couldn't?" He felt Derek shrug through Stiles. Amazing how connecting their bodies even in the simplest of ways let him feel Derek through Stiles.

"Everyone calls you Parrish. Stiles called you Jordan those few times but he seemed closer to you than I ever was and I thought maybe he had earned that right. I didn't want to use it if I hadn't earned it." Parrish laughed. He had to laugh at the idea of Derek not having earned something from him.

"Derek, you saved my life. You can call me whatever the hell you want." The humor vanished the room when Derek was still silent and Parrish realized it wasn't a joking kind of thing. "But, seriously, you can. Actually… Call me Jordan. Please."

"You sure?" Derek's voice in the silence was a relief more than anything.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's more…"

"Personal" He nodded. More silence, but this time it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable and it was more centered around Stiles' breathing than anything else. Better than before, when it had been focused on their discomfort with each other.

"Hey Jordan?" He hummed to show he was listening. "Please don't' ever go back." A snort escaped his mouth before he remembered to be quiet, but Stiles didn't even stir. The poor kid was probably sleeping for the first real time in weeks. But how could Derek think he would ever go back to that place?

"Back where? To that basement? I wouldn't dream of it, trust me-"

"No, back to your apartment." Derek's voice was so serious and low that it almost scared him "Or, if you do, take us with you." He was surprised to say the least but he nodded. It wasn't like he wanted to leave, anyways.

"I won't." He heard Derek shift on the other side of Stiles and move onto his side. As he watched Stiles', a hand appeared on the boys' stomach, rising and falling with his every breath. After a second of hesitation, Parrish steeled himself and reached out to take the hand in his. He could feel Derek's surprise but neither of them said a word-either because of Stiles or because of the moment-and eventually Derek intertwined their fingers. That, combined with the thump of Stiles' heartbeat was enough to lull him to sleep again.


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