Chapter 8

Two days later, Derek was about to explode. There was a show that night, so everyone was busy running around prepping and Stiles was doing sound checks and practice runs, and it was all fine and dandy, except Jennifer was upping her game and sending Derek a text every five minutes and of course all Derek could think about was Stiles and his safety.

It might have helped if Jennifer ever wanted to talk about anything but Stiles. Sure, she said her reasons for that topic before were because Derek 'opened up' when he spoke about Stiles, but that was a lie and the excuse was running so thin Derek could probably strain water through it.

Every time his phone went off, Laura gave him a disapproving look, and he understood. They had rules about phones on the job, and it was that phones were for emergencies only. Derek had told Jennifer, of course, but she didn't seem to know what she was doing… or if she did, she didn't seem to care.

Groaning, he pulled his phone out to look at the newest text and his wristband shifted up enough for him to see the edge of his double zeros.

"You alright?" Stiles speaking to him was a shock on its own. The singer had done a relatively good job of only speaking to Derek about work and even then he usually got someone else to do it. Jordan didn't seem to recognize that Stiles was using him as a mouthpiece yet, so that was good.

"Fine," Derek said and cleared his throat, trying not to sound upset. The last thing he wanted was for Stiles to think he was mad at him. "Done with practice?"

"Mostly, but we're taking a fifteen." The water in Stiles' bottle was red and Stiles shook it rapidly. "Hey so… what do security guards do between things? Like after we wrap this up but before the concert, what do you and Laura and whoever do?"

"We churn butter," Derek said, serious faced and no hint of a joke in his tone.

The bottle stopped moving and Stiles' mouth dropped open and- oh good it was closed again. Derek forced his eyes up from Stiles' lips and back to Stiles' eyes. Slow moving lava started building up in his arms no matter how much he tried to convince it not to. Stiles' eyes and Derek's blood stream seemed to have a pact made up, and Derek didn't know how to break it.

"Wow. Please tell me you're joking," Stiles said after a minute. "I mean, I assume you're joking, but we did have a fight the other day and you stopped talking to me so-"

"Actually, it was you who stopped talking to me," Derek clarified. His phone buzzed in his hand, but he didn't look down at it.

Frowning, Stiles' whole face pinched. "But- Hey, but you didn't try to talk to me either," he complained, and the bottle was moving again. "If you wanted to talk, you should've just said so."

"Right. Because being told you didn't want to talk was obviously an invitation to strike up a conversation." Buzz. Derek clenched his fingers around his phone and tried to ignore it. If Stiles thought he could make this whole mess out to be Derek's fault then he-

It wasn't Derek's fault. It wasn't.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll admit, maybe I should've dropped a few hints but-"

"Stiles," Derek warned, because the lava was spreading through his chest.

"Look I'm trying to ask if you're free to talk after this," Stiles finally admitted, and really Derek should tell him no. The lava in his blood wasn't getting any better, and it seemed determined to only grow more intense in between moments of catching sight of Stiles' eyes. Talking could only make things worse.

His phone buzzed again. "Fine," Derek grunted out harder than he meant to, but his phone was annoying him. "Sorry. I need to check my phone."

"Right." And Stiles finally opened his water and started to drink the weird koolaid or tea or whatever it was he had mixed in. "Girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend," Derek grunted and then hated how much it sounded like he regretted the word. "Sit down and rest. We'll talk after."

"We will," Stiles agreed and shuffled off to find a chair.

Derek waited until Stiles was firmly seated and Scott was standing by him, handing him some kind of snack bar, before he finally looked down at his phone. Jennifer's name was all over the preview screen, and Derek sighed as he opened her conversation.

There was a How are you? message and I miss you! and then she asked how things were on set, but it was her last message that really stood out.

"Has Stiles ever talked to you about his ex?" she asked.

After only a moment's hesitation, Derek hit the call button and raised the phone to his ear.

"Derek?" Jennifer answered with.

"What are you talking about?" Derek asked. Stiles didn't have an ex. He'd asked Laura specifically. She'd been certain.

"It's been circulating for awhile now. There's evidence that Stiles actually had a significant other a few years ago, and I just-," but Derek didn't let her finish.

"Am I just a source to you?" he asked, and he must have said it louder than he intended, because Stiles sat a little straighter in his chair… but he was much too far away to understand Derek's words.

"What? Why would you think that?" Jennifer defended, and Derek could imagine the way her nose would crinkle just a bit, because she always got that way when he started doubting their relationship.

"Because you're always asking about Stiles and the show and things you shouldn't know about. Because you're a reporter," Derek grunted.

"Whatever people have been telling you, Derek, you can't believe them." She sounded so sincere, so gentle. "They're just jealous that you might be finding The One."

"And have I?" Derek asked. He glanced over toward Scott and Stiles. Scott was kneeling in front of his friend and they were motioning over the stage, discussing something about the show. "This is the first time you've ever brought it up… Usually I do. I can't stop thinking about it."

"Me either." Jennifer took a deep breath. "Derek-"

"You're lying."

If Jennifer was like Derek, she wouldn't be able to discuss work and ask detailed questions about life on set with the Stilinski tour. She'd be bringing up soul mates in every other conversation – wondering what it was like for people who got engaged to the 'wrong' people who discovered their soul mates later. She'd send him texts at midnight asking if soul mates ever craved food because their soul mate was eating it. Derek knew she would, because those were the kinds of thoughts that woke him up in the middle of the night when he was suddenly craving yogurt… and he hated yogurt.

But she never did.

"Jennifer, what are you working on right now? Professionally or personally. What's the story?" Derek asked, trying to calm his voice.

"I-… I'm working on a piece about fame running in families. I figured Kardasians, Jacksons, Stilinskis, that sort of thing." She started to rant about it, making it sound very in depth and detailed, but it sounded empty too, like a college student trying to explain to their professor what their paper was about despite not having done the research for it yet.

"Stop." Derek ran a hand over his face. "Just stop. If you've been using me to get intel on Stiles, just admit to it. Don't make up an article that doesn't exist."

"Derek. Believe me. Whoever told you-"

"No one told me," Derek snapped too loudly and then ran an angry hand over his face to iron out the glare from his forehead. "Listen. I don't want to be mad at you. Maybe we should… take a break."

"You want to break up? Over a misunderstanding?" Jennifer asked.

"Yes." Being blunt had always been a strength of Derek's. "And if you were really my soul mate, you'd understand."

For a long moment, Derek thought Jennifer had hung up on him, and he pulled the phone away to check it was still clocking call time. When he put it back to his ear, she started talking again, her voice tight but verging on upset. He couldn't tell if that 'upset' was angry or sad, but it was there.

"Okay. I understand," she said. "You need time to trust me, and if leaving you alone gains that trust, I'll do it. So… Call me when you think you're ready for a serious relationship."

And then the line went silent again. Derek didn't need to check to know the call had ended. Slowly, he pulled the phone from his ear and slipped it into his pocket. His second relationship and he'd broken it off. Damn it. That was the right thing to do, right? He hadn't been imagining her obsession with news of bad things happening on set, right? Her silent disregard for how Derek was actually feeling? He hadn't been making it up. Even Laura…

He shouldn't doubt himself, but he did. He probably shouldn't feel bad, but he did that too.

"Copy Derek?" he heard over his ear piece and he cleared his throat before responding.

"Go for Derek."

"Meet me by the stage door." It was Jordan. "At your earliest convenience."

The wording was meant to suggest it wasn't urgent, but Derek knew Jordan, and that's not how Jordan asked you to come if it wasn't urgent. That was actually Jordan speak for 'get over here asap'. A voice over the speakers called Stiles back to the stage so they could work on getting the proper lighting prepped, and Derek caught the singer looking his way before they both turned and walked in opposite directions.

Jordan was by the exit door at the back of the building, door propped open and him squinting in the sun. Scott had said Derek should be a model, but he should be suggesting that career path to Jordan Parrish, honestly. The young security officer looked prepped and ready for camera as he leaned on the door jam, waiting for Derek.

"What's up?" Derek asked and Jordan quickly stood up straight.

"Take a look," he said.

One motion led Derek's eyes to the scratches around the lock on the door. Normally this would be cause for a security camera search, but in this case it just raised questions. The door was locked with a deadbolt and door lock. Just picking the lock wouldn't get you in. So why bother trying?

"That doesn't make any sense," Derek said with a grunt.

"Right?" Jordan nodded and then motioned just outside the door. "And this is questionable too." Outside the door was a pack of matches and a zippo with a wolf design etched into it. "Like… picking a lock and lighting matches with a lighter? What's the end game?"

"I'd rather not figure it out. We'll have someone watch the door for anymore attempts to break in. Stay here for a few minutes and I'll go find someone to relieve you. But let's keep this quiet. So far it doesn't look too dangerous, and we don't need to cause an already stressful situation to get worse," Derek said, thinking of the way Stiles couldn't breathe that first day and Scott's exclamation about stress.

"Of course. Why do you think I called you over the way I did?" Jordan asked and lifted his lips in a way that could almost be a smirk… if Jordan Parrish was the smirking kind.

After a friendly clap on the shoulder, Derek left the slightly younger man on his own and went to find a replacement for him. Jordan was too useful to be guarding the back door, which was only proven by the fact that he'd even found the problem to begin with.

He was almost back to the main stage when Laura's voice cut over the radio.

"Someone get a med kit to the stage, Now! We need burn ointment!"

Feeling his heart in his stomach, Derek took off at a run. As he got closer, he heard lots of people shouting, and then he saw two men putting out a small fire by the sound board. Twenty feet away, a small group of people had huddled around someone on the ground, and Derek knew who it was without seeing.

Gritting his teeth, Derek walked over to a table that used to be covered in water bottles for the crew but which now only held five. He snatched up two and walked quickly over to the group.

"Move!" he half shouted and several stagehands scattered from the scene. Stiles was propped up against Scott, clutching his right arm to his chest. For a split second, Derek thought Stiles' health condition had flared up, but then he saw the angry red burn on Stiles' right hand.

"Derek, did you bring a med kit?" Laura asked. She sounded frightened, and later he'd ask what had caused the situation that spooked her and injured Stiles and caused a damn fire at the sound board, but for now he had bigger problems.

"No. Give me your hand," Derek ordered, holding his own hand out.

"Dude, what?" Scott exclaimed, but Derek wasn't looking at Scott or at Laura.

His eyes were on Stiles' face, and though Stiles was shaking and biting his lip, he barely looked into Derek's eyes for more than two seconds before he was throwing his hand forward into Derek's. With his free hand, Derek opened a water bottle and then locked gazes with Stiles again.

"This is gonna sting at first," he warned.

"Oh my God, just do it," Stiles said and hissed at the end, because he was in pain and not because he was angry.

So Derek stopped hesitating and started pouring the water over Stiles' hand. The burn ran across the base of his fingers and between his thumb and forefinger, and while Stiles' hissing sounded bad, the color of the burn told Derek it wasn't serious. If Derek was right, there'd be no muscle damage or loss of movement.

"Did the microphone do this to you?" he asked, judging by the path of the burn. Then, as an afterthought, he turned to Laura and asked calmly, "Can you bring me the rest of the water?"

She nodded and left as Stiles nodded and said, "Y-Yeah. We were doing one last sound check and then everything went crazy high pitched. Like dog whissssss… Damn it. Like a dog whistle."

The first water bottle had run empty. Stiles tried to move his fingers, but it only made him wince and grunt. Derek glared at him while opening the second bottle, and Stiles gave a teasing smile in return. As soon as the water started rolling over his hand again, Stiles relaxed.

"We don't know what happened," Scott continued. "One second, everything was perfect. The next, the sound board short circuits and there's fire, and the microphone like… I don't know how else to explain it. It just blew."

He motioned toward the stage, where the remnants of Stiles' microphone lay under the bright lights. The base and the head were completely separated, and the base was cracked in four places. How in the hell-? Derek only stopped looking at it because Laura was back with the water.

"Thanks," he grunted and she just nodded as she opened the next one.

"The force knocked Stiles over," Scott finished.

"The force didn't do shit," Stiles argued gently and shifted to sit up on his own, keeping his hand as still as possible. "It was the shock."

"Yeah, well whatever it was, you're gonna have to go to the hospital," Derek said as he switched to take Laura's prepped bottle. The empty bottles were discarded carelessly beside him. When Stiles looked affronted, Derek was not moved. "Electrical burns can be bad news. You're not even supposed to cool them down before you see a doctor if it's too serious."

"And yet you're pouring water on mine," Stiles said, frowning.

"Yours isn't serious. But a trip to the hospital will get you the burn cream, bandages, and whatever else you'll need to get this healed quick. Can't imagine you'll want your hand to burn throughout the whole concert… under all those hot lights." And the look Derek gave Stiles then could only be called a challenge.

Barely a heartbeat passed before Stiles moved from frowning to full on pouting, and he turned his head away from Derek. "Fine. But if I gotta go to the hospital, then you gotta suffer with me. "

"What?" Derek really didn't like hospitals. Really really didn't-

"He's right, Derek," Laura said – the traitor. "Someone needs to go with him. You should go."

A local stage hand ran up then to offer a fully stocked first aid kit, but all Derek took from it was the gauze and bandages. Silently, he rolled up Stiles' hand, trying to figure a way out of going to sterile hell. When he was done, he looked up at Stiles, completely prepared to say he needed to help Jordan with an issue with the door, but Stiles' frown had turned disappointed, his eyebrows pulled slightly together, and Derek could only sigh.

"Fine," he agreed, and Laura called for someone to go get a car.

Fine was right. Not yes or of course, but fine. Fine, because Stiles looked like he really wanted Derek to go… and besides, he and Stiles had a date anyway. To talk, not to date.

Derek couldn't wait for his hormones to stop giving him migraines.

The hospital was sterile and hellish, just as Derek remembered it. It didn't matter that the walls were half cream or there were pleasant paintings on the walls or that this hospital was thousands of miles from the last one Derek had been in. It was still hell and it was still the same.

"You alright, dude?" Stiles asked, sitting in the exam room and waiting for the doctor.

They'd already been seen by the nurse, so all they really needed now was the doctor to write them the official prescription and maybe the nurse would come back and re-bandage the injury. Stiles was pretty calm, not even hissing anymore. Sometimes he twitched, so Derek knew he was still in pain, but he was generally normal.

"I'm fine," Derek grunted.

"You've sort of not been fine since we got in the car to come here," Stiles argued back. "Like wow, you must really hate hospitals."

"Yeah I really must." And he said it bluntly, trying to end the conversation, but it was so true, and judging by Stiles' face, he could tell.

Thankfully, before Stiles could question him about his distaste for health centers, the doctor walked in.

"You were lucky, Mr. Stilinski," he said, glancing down at the clipboard in his hand. "Electrical burns can be quite a serious matter. I see first aid was administered on site. Another lucky thing for you. Which of your crew knew how to tend a burn?"

"Him," Stiles said, pointing with his uninjured hand, and Derek's back straightened.

"See a lot of electrical burns, Mr…?" the doctor prompted.

"Hale. And my uncle once was involved in an incident. He got minor burns." And some people got worse, but he didn't voice that out loud.

"Good. You might be familiar with the long term treatment then. I'm prescribing an antibiotic ointment to prevent infection. Apply it twice a day with new bandages," the doctor said and signed off on a piece of paper on his clipboard.

He handed the prescription to Derek instead of Stiles, and Stiles licked his lips in a way that seemed somehow agitated and confused at the same time. Derek didn't blame him. Being handed someone's medicine made him feel like a father instead of a friend… bodyguard. They were terrible friends.

"However, if you have any aloe, you can apply that as often as you'd like, but it needs to be pure aloe. After the first day, the aloe will work as well as the ointment or it could even be more effective. But try it lightly first. Some people have skin irritation when using aloe."

"Good to know," Stiles quipped and stood up. "So is that it?"

"Yes. Nothing much else we can do for you, Mr. Stilinski." The doctor held out a hand to shake before remembering it was Stiles' dominant hand that was injured. He quickly switched hands and Stiles smiled as he shook it. "You're good to go. Since you probably won't be in town much longer, if you have any complications with your burn, find a doctor wherever you are. If they have any questions, they can call me." And then he handed Derek his business card.

After that, Stiles was given a shot that was more pain killer than anything else, and the nurse applied an antibiotic ointment to his burn and then wrapped his hand in new bandages. Five minutes later and Derek was stopped at a red light, his resting bitch face aimed at the traffic signal that kept him from getting back to his sister.

"So," Stiles said and cleared his throat. "You sounded pretty upset on the phone earlier."

"Oh?"

Groaning, Stiles shifted to aim his body at Derek's. "Oh come on, can we just stop this already? I'm- I'm trying here, alright? And you're shutting down every conversation I try to start. It's super unhelpful."

"I hate hospitals and yes I was upset on the phone," Derek growled out and then tried to remind himself that none of this was Stiles' fault.

Except maybe it was… a little… only Stiles didn't know it was. The light turned green.

"Okay. So on the phone…," Stiles paused, nibbled his lip, and shrugged. "How did your uncle get burned?"

Good topic shift. "He was working a job about eight years ago. Not for a singer. This was for a sort of up-and-coming musicians showcase. On the final day of competition, it rained really hard and the stage and everything was drenched. Someone tried to suggest they delay the proceedings until the area could be checked for hazards."

Derek paused and clenched the steering wheel. He didn't like talking about that day, even if he was being vague about his own involvement. But right now he preferred this topic over his breakup.

"But my uncle disagreed, and so did the director of the event. So things continued. But some of the electrical wiring had been damaged in the storm, and mid-show a cable snapped and electrocuted the stage. My uncle was a little too close to the fire that flared up."

He did his best to keep his voice neutral, emotionless, as he spoke, but Stiles was far too quiet afterward, so he was pretty sure he failed.

"Oh my God," he murmured after a tense minute. "What about the performers?"

"There was only one on the stage when it happened. Paige. She was displaying a solo talent… with a cello," Derek explained, and he almost missed getting into the next turn lane.

"And?" Stiles prompted.

"And she died." His fingers relaxed on the wheel. He'd only told his mother about this before. Most people didn't even know Derek had been present for the event, so no one bothered him about it. But Scott knew.

"Sorry," Stiles said and Derek glanced curiously over at him. Before Derek could ask what he was apologizing for, Stiles continued. "Sounds like you knew her. Plus you had to take care of your uncle afterward…. Plus now you're taking care of me. Listen, I'm totally cool with being dropped like a bag of moldy cheese if treating a burn reminds you of that job too much."

"Stiles, shut up," Derek said, but he felt his lips twitch.

"Alright. Sharing times is over. I follow. Sharing's not caring. Zipping my lip. Shutting up right now. Like right now." And the singer mimed zipping his mouth and throwing the key like a major league baseball pitcher. Derek couldn't help the way he almost laughed, a snigger escaping despite himself, and he didn't miss the way Stiles smiled at him afterward.

Preview Chapter 9:

Derek is on "Stiles patch-up" Duty, which leads to some very close conversations. When he starts to wonder if Stiles could be his true soul mate, Derek finds himself increasingly curious about the singer's hidden numbers. During their talks, Derek finds a lot of his tensions ease, but maybe the same isn't true for Stiles?