Stiles came to with a sense of déjà vu. Heart rate monitor beeping. IV dripping. Pen scribbling. Metal on metal as a clipboard was hung at the end of his bed. Soft sneakers padding along the linoleum floor. The scents of hospital and disinfectant and concern.
He slowly opened his eyes, vision blurry as he blinked away the bleariness of sleep and woke himself up more. He took in the familiar sights of a room in Beacon Memorial, the harsh fluorescent light and strangely warm beige walls. Peering to his right, he caught sight of Melissa checking his IV, worry furrowing her brow.
"Mi'ssa?" he slurred, tongue thick from sleep, voice rough from a dry throat. Downside of being a mouth breather when sleeping. Well, that, plus sounding like Darth Vader.
At least Stu had said he sounded like Vader. Stiles wouldn't really know, being asleep and all.
The nurse's eyes flipped over to him, a smile slowly forming on her face, relief flooding her scent. "Hey, sleepyhead," she greeted him warmly, voice calm and low, washing over him like an extra blanket. "How you feeling?"
He stretched as he took stock of everything, feeling incredibly well-rested, body no longer feeling completely off or wrong or out of place. "Still kinda floaty," he admitted, rubbing at his eyes and sniffing then dropping his hands onto his stomach. "But more in my own skin. That weird empty feeling is pretty much gone and my wolf feels calm."
And it was. Hell, if Stiles didn't know any better, he'd say the furry lug was purring inside his head, tail wagging lazily as he laid there in contentment, something that hadn't happened since...
It was then that he registered a third heartbeat in the room, another monitor beeping steadily, so perfectly in rhythm with his own that at times they were overlapping, making it easy to miss. His brow furrowed in confusion, lips parting, and he turned his head to the left to find the source of it.
His eyes went wide at the sight of Derek laying in a bed beside him, completely out. His heart pounded in his chest, a gasp leaving him, before he registered the fact that the alpha was tied to the bed using the five point restraint method, straps around his wrists, ankles, and chest holding him to the bed. A gag was in his mouth, teeth marks in the leather, pricks that could've only been made from fangs rather than blunt teeth.
What the hell happened?
His heart rate monitor beeped louder and faster as his wolf howled in his head, clearly sensing something was wrong. Derek's pulse increased to match his, brow creasing into a frown, arms and legs shuffling about as he subconsciously began fighting his restraints.
"Stiles," Melissa called him calmly, voice still low, hand on his shoulder to press him back down onto the bed, despite him having no idea he'd even risen in the first place. "I need you to relax, okay?"
Stiles' head snapped to her, puzzled frown on his face, chest heaving with worried breaths. "What's going on? Why is he tied down like that? What happened to him?"
"Because Derek's at a high-risk for going feral," she explained in that same even voice, hand a steadying presence on his shoulder, head nodding in a psychological tactic to get him to agree. "And if he senses you panicking for any reason, he will fight off those drugs, get out of those restraints, and tear this hospital apart to try and fix a problem that doesn't really exist. A hospital that currently includes your dad, Scott, Lydia, Allison, and myself. Understand?"
Stiles nodded, utilizing every breathing technique he learned to calm himself down. Turning to Derek, he took deep inhales of the alpha's scent, remembering how it'd helped him recover from a panic attack at the ME's office in Oak Creek, hoping it would work again.
Luckily it did and Stiles felt his heart beat slow and his breaths even out, Derek relaxing right along with him. When he felt more in control of himself, the omega turned back to Melissa, still confused as to what was going on.
"Why is Derek even here?" he questioned. "What happened?"
Melissa sighed as she folded her arms and it was then that he noticed she was in a different set of scrubs, these a pale pink compared to the baby blue he'd last seen her in. "The two of you were suffering from Incomplete Bond Sickness. It's why you were feeling so out of it and why Derek damn near went feral and attacked a coworker. He had to be tranqed, tied down, then airlifted here before he did any more damage." Her eyes drifted over to the mentioned male, a look of maternal pity and worry on her face. She clearly felt bad for him rather than disapproved of him assaulting someone.
Which was definitely a story Stiles needed more details of.
Later. He had more important shit to worry about. Like what the hell Melissa had just diagnosed him with.
"Wait," he requested, drawing her attention back to him. "How can we even have any sort of Bond when we never—" He trailed off, waving his hand around to encompass what he was trying to say without actually having to say it in front of his best friend's mom.
The sex talk was always awkward, regardless of what parental type figure it was happening with.
She smirked, dark eyes sparkling with the amusement that colored her scent. "Went all the way?" she finished for him, his face heating up with embarrassment.
Better her than his dad, he figured.
Oh fuck, his dad was gonna know! His dad was gonna find out he lied and he screwed around with his twin's Mate, who was actually Stiles' Mate and just kill him now. Fuck his life.
She breathed out a light chuckle, shaking her head in amusement before growing serious, in complete Mom Mode. "Sometimes an emotional Bond can happen without any physical acts taking place and that can be enough for your wolf. Especially when True Mates are involved," she added, giving him a pointed look.
Shit. Busted.
He cleared his throat as he felt his face heat up even more in mortification, his wolf hiding its face in its paws. He cleared his throat and shuffled in place, ducking his head and staring down at his hospital gown. Totally not how he wanted to look when he saw Derek again.
Not that he was planning on ever seeing Derek again at all.
But still. He could fantasize about it and in those said fantasies he was always in those burgundy jeans Lydia said made his ass look great and his fave Star Wars shirt that was technically on the small side but he was too attached to get rid of it, and Derek would look him up and down, letting out a growl as he told Stiles how hot he looked and what an idiotic mistake he'd made in letting him go.
Yeah, hospital chic was not a part of that.
Although it kinda brought shit full circle, considering the last time he saw Derek he was in a similar outfit in a similar room.
He peeked over at the other man, taking in his appearance. At least he was stuck in one of the not so flattering johnnies, too. Kinda put them on equal ground there. Was too bad their conditions weren't exactly equal.
The thought of that brought a fuzzy memory back to mind, a half-heard conversation that had been muffled, as though coming to him through water or something. With a frown, he switched his focus back to Melissa, peering up at her as he spoke lowly.
"You told my dad I had the same thing as my mom," he pointed out, watching as her face fell and her scent grew sadder. Sometimes he forgot what good friends his mom and Melissa had been, how the death of Claudia had been hard on her as well. His fists tangled in the blanket, heart pounding though he tried to keep it calm for Derek's sake, panic and worry making his chest tight and his breathing shaky. "Did you mean I had frontotemporal dementia, too?"
A sigh left her and she ducked her head, muttering about how she hoped he hadn't heard that while she scratched at the back of her neck. "No," she answered honestly, and he felt relief so strong he practically sagged from it. "Your mom came down with a case of IBS when she first started dating your dad and he was shipped overseas with the army. He had to come back early in order to complete the Bond and legend has it, that's how you came to be."
Okay, more than he needed to know. Sure, every kid is aware that their parents had sex—how else would they even exist? Plus heats were a thing and he had memories of him and Stu staying at the McCalls' for a weekend twice a year, every year, until his mom's death. His dad didn't have a heat for a while after that and then it turned into a once a year trip to their family friends' place.
But despite all that, the reminder that his parents actually had sex wasn't a welcome thing.
The relief that he didn't have frontotemporal dementia, however, was and he gave Melissa a small smile and a quiet "thanks" in appreciation.
She smiled right back, rubbing his shoulder in a purely maternal manner, glancing at the door briefly. "I'm gonna go update everyone that you're awake and talking. Think you're up to any visitors?"
Truth was, Stiles wasn't entirely sure if he was in the mood for dealing with anyone, especially not the five thousand questions that'd be thrown his way. But he knew he didn't really have a choice, not with how nosy and pushy his friends were and how much his dad worried.
Shit. His dad. Oh fuck, he was gonna be pissed.
He winced slightly, scratching his head and feeling the grease of his unwashed hair—gross, way attractive, another bonus for Derek seeing him like this. "My dad, yeah," he answered, knowing it was best just to get that over with.
Melissa seemed to understand, patting his shoulder one last time and saying she'll send everyone else home for the night before padding out the room and quietly closing the door behind herself.
Stiles glanced out the window, seeing it was in fact dark outside and therefore night time. He wondered how long he'd been there, how late it was, searching the room but not finding a clock.
Giving up, he turned his attention back to Derek and taking in his unconscious form. He looked like he was naturally sleeping and not in some sorta drug induced coma, chest rising and falling in slow even breaths beneath the leather restraint.
Inspecting the alpha further, Stiles took note of all the physical changes, his heart sinking with each new piece he found. His hair was unstyled, greasy, like he hadn't washed it in a while, beard longer and not nearly as tidy as it had been. His frame looked smaller, like he'd lost a bunch of weight and had stopped working out, skin paler and sunken in. Dark circles framed his eyes like bruises, clearly a result of lack of sleep, and the harsh fluorescent lights made him look like death.
Stiles' wolf howled in his head, whining and whimpering and scratching at the surface. And Stiles couldn't blame it. He was overwhelmed with the need to caretake, to nurse Derek back to health. He wanted to hand-feed him soup he'd made himself, read him bedtime stories as he scratched his scalp and lulled him to sleep, watching over him to make sure he got the proper amount of sleep, give him sponge baths and help him trim his beard until he was back on his feet and he could do it himself. He wanted to watch Derek get better, get stronger, get back to his old self and be the reason why it happened.
Only he wasn't gonna be able to.
Because Incomplete Bond Sickness or not, they'd both agreed it was for the best that they not be together, that it would never work out between them. He wondered briefly if the IBS would change that, only to quickly conclude that it wouldn't. Their physical conditions might be better now that they were in the same room, but their lives were still exactly the same, making it impossible for them to happen.
"Mates don't always mean happy ever after."
He hated how that voice in his head now sounded more like himself than Stu.
He also hated the restraints tying Derek down like he was a lunatic or an animal. Surely the alpha was feeling better, feeling calmer now that he was near Stiles. The younger man definitely felt miles better being in close proximity to him. And if his omega was calm and relaxed, shouldn't Derek be also? Wouldn't that mean the restraints could come off, his chances of going feral decreased?
Stiles nodded in agreement with himself, mind made up, deciding to take the restraints off himself. It wasn't like Derek posed any sorta danger to him, just anyone who threatened Stiles, given an alpha's basic need to protect their omega.
He sat up in bed, pushing his blanket back then kicking them all the way off, fully intending to step over and free his Mate, when the door opened and stopped him in his tracks. He scrambled back into position, hastily pulling his covers back up and smoothing them over himself, making it appear as though he hadn't moved an inch.
Although the increase in frequency of the heart rate monitor's beeps and the agitation on Derek's face probably gave him away.
Shit.
He took a deep steadying breath, inhaling his dad's scent as the sheriff made his way into the room, dressed in a polo and jeans and looking like he hadn't gotten much sleep either. Jesus, Stiles just wanted to tuck pretty much everyone into bed and have a big ol' nap party. A siesta fiesta.
But the relief that came across his dad's face as his blue eyes washed over him was worth fretting over his lack of sleep, as was the soft "hey, kiddo" he breathed out as he stepped closer, pulling a chair over with him. Stiles gave his dad a smile, more than thankful that he was able to actually do that, that he hadn't actually died and left his old man all alone like he'd been so fucking worried he was going to.
Nope. His dad was stuck with him for—hopefully—a long ass time.
"Glad to see you're finally awake."
Stiles let out a snort as he scratched an itch on his cheek, hearing the rasp of stubble from the action, making his brow furrow in inquiry. "How long was I out?"
His dad's own brow creased in worry as he leaned forward on his knees, hands clasped together. "About a day and a half."
His eyes widened at that, thinking there was no way it had only been that little amount of time. He breathed out a swear as he smeared a hand down his face, leaning down and getting settled in his bed once more. "Feels like I've slept for a month," he muttered, stretching his arms out in front of him, elbows popping with the action.
A snort was the older man's reaction, an eyebrow raising. "Yeah, well, that's what happens when you sleep next to your Mate," he stated, giving his son a pointed look that made his earlier flush return. With a sigh, his dad leaned back, roughing his hands over his face and shaking his head before folding his arms over his chest in a casual manner and staring his son down. "What the hell have you gotten yourself caught up in now?"
"It's not my fault!" Stiles cried out as he sat up, arms flailing in defense of himself. The heart rate monitor behind him spiked and he calmed himself down, slumping once more on the bed. "And it's not Derek's fault either. Or Stu's. Not like any of us really knew or anything."
His dad seesawed his head, eyebrows bobbing in concession. "Guess the world is crazy like that. Your mom always did say that Fate works in mysterious ways." A sad smile formed on his face at the mention of her, scent turning melancholic, before he focused his attention on Stiles once more. "So why the big secret about you being Derek's True Mate?"
He swallowed hard, sinking further in the bed, hating this. He knew it was bound to come up eventually, especially when he woke up from an unconscious state with Derek in the bed next to his and Melissa talking about Incomplete Bond Sickness. But now that the moment had come to fess up, he was seriously fucking dreading it.
Maybe he could fake passing out.
Nah. His dad would figure out he was faking. Besides, he'd have to have that conversation when he woke up again anyway. Might as well just get it over with.
With a sigh, he tugged at his hair, eyes fixated on his lap. "We agreed not to say anything," he mumbled, dropping his hand with a slap. "We didn't want people thinking that Derek was just replacing his lost Mate with his identical twin and we didn't want the lie about his and Stu's Mating to come out."
"Okay," his dad replied with a long head nod, brow still creased in confusion. "But why not tell me about you and Derek when you gave me the whole story about Oak Creek? A story that included the fact that your brother had fake-Mated someone, by the way," he pointed out with a hand aimed at his son.
He winced at that, fingers tangling together on his lap. "I dunno," he huffed, shrugging. "I guess I was just in denial about the whole thing, trying not to think about it, ya know? That way it wouldn't hurt as much."
Okay, now that he was saying it out loud, it sounded kinda dumb. But it had made sense to him. At least a little. Because saying shit out loud was always the one thing that made something real. And on top of that, talking about it was just another huge reminder of what he'd lost—or more accurately, what he'd given up. He hadn't fought for Derek, hadn't tried to change his mind or convince him that they could make it work, that they could lie and concoct some story about how the mutual loss of Stu had brought them together, that Stiles being Dream-less and Derek now being Mate-less allowed them to fall in love the less traditional way and form a happy bond out of a tragic event.
Jesus, seriously, why hadn't he thought of that before? It was perfect.
He just needed to remember that argument for whenever Derek woke up and they could actually talk about shit.
His dad shook his head fondly, muttering that he was an idiot and ruffling his son's hair. "Well, everyone knows now," he pointed out, leaning on his knees once more. "And probably everyone at Oak Creek after the State Alpha's son was airlifted outta there."
Stiles breathed out a swear. So much for that plan.
Was still a good one though.
Nodding in agreement, his dad rose to his feet, patting his son's shoulder. "I'll let you get some more rest. You still look like you need it."
He gave his old man a small smile, brow furrowing as he thought of something. "Can you tell someone to come get the restraints off Derek?"
His dad winced like he wasn't exactly on board with that idea, eyes shifting over to the still sleeping alpha then back to the younger man. "I'll talk to someone about it," he placated, not entirely agreeing but not saying 'no'.
Stiles would take it.
The two hugged tightly and exchanged "I love you"s before his dad walked out, door closing behind him.
Shifting on the bed, Stiles shuffled about until he was laying comfortably on his side, eyes fixed on Derek. His Mate was only a foot or so away now, yet still seemed too far, and he finally gave in to the urge to touch, laying a hand on his bicep. It seemed a lot smaller than he remembered and his worry built back up, only to become too sleepy to really dwell on it that much. He fell back asleep with the sound of his Mate's heartbeat in his ear and scent somewhat in his nose.
It was light outside when Stiles next woke up. The main light in the room and the lamp above his head were both turned off, the window on the far left and the lamp above Derek providing the only illumination. Casting his eyes to the side, he found the alpha already awake—and thankfully restraint free—and staring at him, green eyes half lidded, soft smile on his face. Stiles grinned sleepily back at him, taking note of the fact that his hand was no longer on Derek's bicep, but gripped within one of the alpha's, their fingers interlocked. He thought of some supposed psychological factoid about how hands cupped mean friendship and fingers laced together meant love and his stupid heart skipped a beat at what it all could mean.
He peered down at their joined hands, squeezing the other man's and feeling his squeezed right back, smile growing on his face. It was stupid really. Hand holding didn't mean anything, not in the long run. The physical closeness was just helping abate any of their Incomplete Bond Sickness symptoms, helping them get better. Didn't mean they were gonna get together and live happily ever after. Just meant the touching calmed their wolves and made them feel less...off.
Or less feral in Derek's case.
His eyes traveled back up the alpha's arm, focusing on those light eyes he'd missed more than he realized, feeling relieved to see his Mate awake and free of restraints and seemingly okay. "How are ya?" he croaked out, voice rough from sleep.
"Good," the older man replied, smile fading into a frown, free hand smearing down his face as he stared at the ceiling. "Better. Less homicidal and less like my wolf is gonna take over and tear everyone apart until we find you."
The mention of his wolf and tearing people apart reminded Stiles of what Melissa had told him earlier and he frowned, free hand fiddling with the edge of his blanket. "Who was it that you attacked anyway?"
Derek scoffed, dropping his hand on his stomach. "Whittemore," he grumbled, making the corner of Stiles' lips curve up in a pleased smirk. "He said something not so nice about you, although looking back at it now, it was probably just a joke, but." He shrugged, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I just. Lost it. I didn't even realize what I was doing until I felt this prick in my neck and I looked down to see Whittemore cowering and submitting beneath me, his face all bloodied." He grimaced, shame painted his scent, hand tightening around Stiles' and the omega squeezed back in support. "Took seven or eight more tranq darts to take me out. All 'cause he said your face looked like a cookie with those stupid moles." He turned his head to the younger man, eyes wide with worry. "His words, not mine."
Stiles waved him off, not too put off by it. "Honestly, that's probably the nicest thing he's ever said about my moles. And my face kinda does look like a cookie."
"I like cookies," the alpha mumbled and Stiles jostled their joined hands good-naturedly.
"So. Aside from Jackson's face getting all beat to hell, which I hope there's photos of, by the way, 'cause I'd pay to see that shit," he pointed out, watching the older man's ears go red and the shame leak back into his scent. Which totally shouldn't be happening. It wasn't Derek's fault he snapped; that's why it was called "snapping". Shit just happens without permission or control and there's no way to stop it or prevent it or any of that shit.
So he shouldn't feel bad for attacking a subordinate. He should just feel bad that Stiles wasn't there to see it really.
"How is everyone?" he asked, changing the subject and hopefully his Mate's mood.
Derek seesawed his head, scratching his jaw and the too-long whiskers as he thought about it. "Laura's pissed at you for not calling or keeping in touch," he informed flatly, not seeming to notice Stiles' wince.
"Yeeeah," he stretched the word out, rubbing at the back of his neck. "It was easier that way, a clean break."
The alpha nodded. "I know. I get it. I kinda lied to Laura a little though and told her that you probably just didn't wanna have anything to do with the town where your brother died and maybe one day you'd come around, but not to hold her breath. She seemed to buy it."
He swallowed hard at the reminder of all that Oak Creek stood for and the things it had taken from him. Derek had made a very valid point and up until that moment, he honestly hadn't considered avoiding the town due to that reason. Really, the only thing he'd been thinking about when it came to wanting nothing to do with Oak Creek was because it was where Derek lived. That was reason enough to not wanna go to the place.
"Erica misses you and your doe eyes," Derek went on, staring up at the ceiling again as though reading a list of things he needed to talk about. "Cora still wants to take you on in poker, which I strongly advise you not to do." He turned and looked at the omega, small smirk on his face. "You literally can't afford to do it."
Stiles smiled back fondly, thinking it was maybe time for a research binge on poker in order to try and beat Cora.
Clearing his throat, Derek looked away, staring down at their joined hands. "Kira wanted me to tell you 'hi' if I ever talked to you, Isaac says he owes you a drink for the computer thing. Basically, everyone misses you," he stated before mumbling out the last part. "I miss you."
His smile grew and he squeezed the older man's hand, feeling the action being returned. "I miss everyone, too. Especially you, Big Guy."
The grin was returned as the alpha looked up and met his eyes, a moment of peaceful bliss washing over them.
Until Stiles' mind kicked in, as it was apt to do.
Because chances were this was all they would have, a moment of peace holding hands in a hospital room. Earlier thoughts of the complications of their lives came back, worries that this was it, this was all that they'd have.
Or maybe not. Maybe things had changed, maybe the IBS was putting shit in perspective and now that everyone knew the truth about Stiles being Derek's True Mate, maybe...
"We should probably talk about shit, huh?" he commented, clearing his throat.
Derek's thumb stroked the back of his hand, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he nodded. "But not here with so many ears. And especially not right now," he added, brow furrowing and scent turning nervous.
Stiles frowned in confusion himself, wondering what the hell had brought on the change, only for the door to open and answer the unasked question for him.
A tall female with shoulder length black hair and piercing eyes breezed in with a wave of authority and maternal love rolling off her. She was dressed in a flowing hunter green dress, sleeves hanging loose down to her elbows, black motorcycle boots covering her shins, and as he took in a familiar blade nose and sharp jaw, he immediately knew who he was staring at.
California State Alpha Talia Hale.
Also known as Derek's mom.
And damn if he didn't look just like her.
Stiles was immediately in awe of her, mouth gaping as he took her in, watching as she pulled to a stop between the foot of their beds. And then he promptly realized he was in a somewhat compromising position, holding the hand of her son that she'd thought had been Mates with someone else, and he dropped it instantly, shooting an apologetic look at Derek out the corner of his eye. Peering down at himself, he remembered what he was wearing, the stupid hospital gown, and he hitched his blanket up to his armpits—not much of an improvement really. He began fussing over his hair, worrying once again when the hell he'd last taken a shower, remembering that he was unshaven and probably patchy as hell—although thankfully not pulling off the homeless meth addict look Lydia had chastised him for only days before.
Shit.
He dropped his hand on his lap as he sat up in bed, hoping to at least make a good impression with his manners, since he clearly couldn't do it with his appearance. Although everything his mom had ever taught him about being polite had completely fucked off to who knew where, leaving him a gaping moron as he gazed at the most intimating person he'd ever met in his entire life.
Alpha Hale crossed her arms over her chest, lips pursed as she glanced back and forth between the two patients before settling on Stiles. She looked him up and down, lips twisting to one side and curving up, an amused grin on her face as her scent became something very pleasant.
But no less intimidating and scary.
Because State Alpha.
"You must be Stiles," she stated warmly, voice sweeter than he expected from someone of her position. But then again, she wasn't visiting as a State Alpha; she was visiting as a mom. Made a lotta sense that she'd adopt a different tone and that she'd leave the Alpha outside.
At least he hoped she had.
"Yes, ma'am. Alpha. Alpha Ma'am," he rambled, plastering a nervous smile on his face that she grinned at.
"I've heard a lot about you. Although not a whole lot of it was from my son," she informed him, giving Derek a pointed look that had his ears burning bright red as he shuffled further under his blankets like a kid busted reading comic books after bedtime. Turning back to Stiles, she shifted her weight, clearing her throat. "I must say I'm surprised by all this," she stated, waving a hand back and forth between the two men before refolding her arms. "But looking back, I really shouldn't be."
"I am so sorry, Mom," Derek immediately spoke up, struggling to push himself up to a sitting position, leaning back on one hand to support his weight. "It was all my fault, all my idea. Don't be mad at Stiles okay, he's totally innocent, it's all me. I take full responsibility. And don't be mad at Stu either, just be mad at me."
Stiles watched him with wide eyes, surprised to see someone ramble who wasn't himself. Normally he was the nervous mouth-vomiter in situations like this, but hey. First time for everything, he figured.
Saved Stiles from making an ass of himself.
The Alpha smiled fondly, holding up a hand to cut him off and Derek immediately clapped his mouth shut, slumping in his seat with his head ducked like a remorseful and fully chastised little kid "It's okay, hun," she assured him. "The whole thing was explained to me by the sheriff and a lovely nurse named Melissa so I understand." She refolded her arms and sighed, scent turning disapproving and Derek's head tilted to the side in supplication. "I'm not happy you lied to me and about something as big and as serious as a Mating, though," she stated, voice harsher than it had been.
Derek's guilt was almost a palpable thing, the scent of it hanging heavy in the air, and Stiles only just managed to keep himself in his bed. But fuck was it hard to, when everything in him was screaming to go comfort his Mate, to make him happy and feel okay again.
But he still wasn't sure if it was even his place to do that, if it would be welcome. If the Alpha in the room with them would approve.
So he stayed put, balling his blanket up in his fists and telling his grumbling wolf to put a lid on it.
"But I forgive you," she went on, causing Derek's head to immediately pop up. "Considering the circumstances surrounding the lie and the reasons behind it, I'm over it."
Derek visibly sagged with relief, the air leaving him on a long exhale, small smile playing on his lips. Stiles hid his own grin, fingers relaxing around his blanket, wolf calming inside his head.
The Alpha turned to Stiles then and he straightened up in his seat, giving her his full attention, brow furrowing in confusion as her scent turned remorseful and melancholic. "I owe you an apology on behalf of my family for everything my brother has put you and your father through."
He waved her off before quickly hiding his hand behind his back and pretending he hadn't just done that. "You don't need to," he insisted, friendly smile on his face. "I don't blame you or hold it against any of the Hales. I wouldn't—and I know my dad wouldn't either—blame an entire family for something one member did." He thought of other families out there who'd been in similar circumstances, ostracized because one person did something unspeakable and the rest of them suffered for it, Allison's Disney dimples flashing in his mind. "And I hope you wouldn't do the same."
Alpha Hale frowned deeply, the action still seeming incredibly dignified solely for being performed by her. "Of course not," she replied, perturbed. "Why would you ask that of me? What exactly has your family done?" She raised a single eyebrow in a move that all her kids seemed to have inherited from her and the family resemblance was so strong at that moment, Stiles was almost knocked down.
He shook his head vehemently. "Not my family, ma'am. The Argents." He noted Derek stiffening out the corner of his eye and continued on. "Allison is a really good friend of mine and the Mate of a guy who's practically a brother to me. And her dad, Chris, is a great man and neither of them are anything like Kate."
The frown and confused scent returned as she slowly nodded. "I believe you. But I'm not entirely sure what this has to do with anything."
Derek turned to look at Stiles, the omega doing the same, mouthing the word "Laura" and getting a nod in return. Clearing his throat, he switched his focus to his mom and murmured to her that he'd explain it later.
She sighed harshly, shaking her head as she pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered to herself. Stiles glanced at Derek with a curious expression, getting a head shake from him that he interpreted as a "don't worry about it" so he shrugged and let it go, turning his attention back to the lone female in the room.
Seeming to be over it, Alpha Hale refolded her arms and shook her head to flick her hair over her shoulder. "Someone will be stopping by soon to bring you both a change of clothes," she informed them, tone all mom-like business, like she was organizing a day-cation to the zoo rather than discussing their hospital stay. "You should be getting discharged by the end of the day from what I understand. In the meantime, try and get some rest, okay?"
Both men nodded obediently and a warm smile formed on her face. She walked over to Derek with surprisingly silent steps considering her choice in footwear, leaning down to kiss his forehead and tell him that she loved him. He returned the sentiment, scent warm and content and Stiles turned his attention to his lap as his chest grew tight. Witnessing moments of maternal affection always brought back memories of his mom and the knowledge that he was no longer able to experience those sort of things. No more kisses on the forehead, no more sweet scented hugs, no more lipstick stains on his cheek, no more soft singing or sewn up teddy bears or Happy Mother's Day cards.
He heard the swish of fabric and a couple footsteps, Alpha Hale turning to him and he quickly hid his melancholy as he peered up at her. She smiled softly down at him, hands folded primly in front of her, her eyes even brighter up close.
"I wish that we'd met under better circumstances," she mused, still smiling. "But it was still a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"It was an honor," he told her honestly, smiling, seeing the expression returned.
"I hope you'll be around more often. It would be nice to get to know you better."
His smile grew shaky at that, honestly not entirely sure if that was a possibility. It all depended on the outcome of a conversation he'd yet to have with Derek, but he knew one thing: he wasn't about to just roll over and give his Mate up the way he had before.
"Feel better soon, sweetie," Alpha Hale told him gently before leaning down and kissing him on the forehead. With one final soft smile, she was gone with a swish of fabric and a wave of authority.
Stiles sat there stunned, mouth hanging open as he stared after her, even when the door had closed behind her. Had that really just happened? Had she just kissed his forehead? Had she really just called him "sweetie"? What the fuck?
He caught the scent of surprise coming from his left and he turned to see Derek in a similar state as the one he was in, eyes wide and mouth agape before he shook himself out of it and cleared his throat.
"My mom would hug Stu and kiss his cheek," he commented, almost absently, still staring at the door. "She called him 'hun' a few times I think. But she never kissed him on the forehead." He turned to Stiles, eyes brighter than ever, glistening in the fluorescent light with held back tears. "She reserves that move for her children only."
The omega flushed hard at the implication, heart pounding wildly in his chest, heart rate monitor beeping loudly behind him. His wolf was losing its everloving mind in his head, jumping about and yipping excitedly, tail wagging so hard it was a surprise it hadn't hit itself in the face yet. It was like he'd been accepted by his Mate's mom, his Mate's alpha. He'd just gotten the seal of approval from a woman that apparently hadn't fully given it to her son-in-law, even after two years together. And he'd gotten it within a first meeting, without even knowing where exactly he stood with her son and what the hell was gonna happen between them once they left the hospital later on that day.
"Yeah," he murmured, turning to stare at the door once more. "We have a lot to talk about."