Chapter 9

The burn on Stiles' hand didn't stop him from performing during the concert. Mostly he just switched to dramatically grabbing the microphone with his left hand instead of his right. And honestly the biggest issue before the concert was getting the new soundboard hooked up.

Only one part of the performance had to be altered to accommodate Stiles' injury, and that was the one song Stiles played as well as sang. With his hand out of commission, his band guitarist had to fill in. It was less personal, but Stiles preferred it over the option of taking the song out altogether.

In the end, the concert proceeded as normal as it could, and in the morning, the tabloids would have plenty of photos of Stiles' bandaged hand and news of the injury would be the hot topic of the day.

But for now, Derek sat on the tour bus with Stiles, alone. Jordan was guarding the bus outside, with Lydia standing by him. Despite working together, they got very little alone time, which Lydia blamed on Derek and Jordan blamed on a job well done. So Derek didn't mind them hanging out together… so long as she didn't drag Jordan away from his post.

On the bus, Derek unwrapped Stiles' hand, which was still a brilliant red. The singer bit his cheek to keep in any hisses and just nodded stubbornly when Derek looked up at him to check how he was doing. The heat of the stage lights had not been helpful, but Stiles had refused to cancel to show. So now they were replacing his sweaty bandages and cleaning the wound after only six hours.

"Melissa called you stubborn," Derek mumbled as he carefully cleaned the swollen skin.

"Y-Yeah. She minored in medicine in college. Almost became a nurse, but then this job came up and her life changed," Stiles explained and then pursed his lips against pain. "It still pops up in conversation though. If she'd been around when it happened instead of you, it'd be her here dressing the wound and not you."

"She'd probably do a better job," Derek remarked off-handedly as he put down the wash cloth and started reapplying the ointment.

"Nah. Don't be silly. You're doing awesome."

"Stiles." Derek paused his movement and looked up into Stiles' eyes. "I thought continuing with the concert was…" He paused, considering his word choice.

"Reckless? Stupid? Naïve?" Stiles offered helpfully and Derek smirked before he shook his head and returned to work.

"Cool."

His whole face felt hot after he said it, and he concentrated on finishing the ointment. He shifted away to grab the fresh bandages and Stiles sucked in a sharp breath. It didn't quite sound like pain, but it was loud enough that Derek ignored the bandages to look back.

"You alright?" he asked.

Stiles' eyes were slightly wide and he tried to flex his fingers, but then his face went tight with pain from the burn. When he relaxed his fingers, his face relaxed as well, and then he frowned.

"Derek," he started, voice tight. "This is gonna sound really really stupid because it didn't work out well last time, but-," he bent forward slightly, his free hand covering his stomach, "can I kiss you?"

"What?"

"For science. Please."

At first, Derek thought it was a joke, but Stiles didn't look like he was joking. He didn't sound like it either. In fact, he sounded a little strange. His caramel eyes were intensely locked on Derek's, and his knee bounced slightly as he waited for an answer.

Really, the only answer Derek should logically have is 'no', but he remembered their last kiss. And he could still feel the way that burning lava felt coursing through him. Even now, it tried to spread. Really, there was only one answer he could ever give to such an earnest request from Stiles.

"Just one?" he asked.

"Unless you beg for more," Stiles replied, and it was said with every seriousness, but then Stiles let one side of his mouth twitch up in a smile, and Derek was relieved to see the joke.

"Just one," he said and loosened his grip on Stiles' wrist.

Scooting closer, Stiles set his forearm on Derek's shoulder, his exposed burn facing the roof behind Derek's head. He moved slowly, waiting for Derek to push him away, but then rushed the last inch and slammed his mouth against Derek's. Pain. For a brief moment, Derek thought he felt pain, but then it was gone as quickly as it had started.

Stiles' lips were just as soft as he remembered, and one kiss turned into a second and then Derek's hand was cupping the back of Stiles' neck, and there was a third. A fourth. This time, Stiles stopped them by chuckling. He kept his forehead against Derek's and laughed quietly.

"What?" Derek asked. He felt light headed and relieved, and he didn't know why. He had been thinking of kissing Stiles, dreaming about it, sure. But to feel this kind of relief? It almost made him want to laugh like Stiles, except he didn't understand it.

"It-," Stiles began and then stopped. He sighed, but he was smiling as he pulled away and offered his hand back to Derek to resume their purpose for being there.

Derek took the hand in his and raised a questioning eyebrow at Stiles, but the singer just shook his head, that stupid grin still on his face. Hesitantly, Derek took up the new bandages and started to rewrap Stiles' hand.

"This might sting," Derek said. "What did science say?"

The smile turned into a smirk as Stiles said, "It doesn't hurt."

With a snort, Derek finished wrapping the bandage and scooted back. "Alright, I get it. Sharing's not caring, right?"

"Something like that. So did you really think I was cool?" Stiles asked and slowly pulled his hand protectively against his chest.

Derek shrugged and packed up the small med kit. "Yeah. It must have made your hand hurt, but you're dedicated. This isn't some game to you. This is your job, your life. Going on stage like that – it's admirable."

"Well for the record – jumping in the way of falling stage lights to save people is pretty admirable too," Stiles said and winked when Derek looked over at him. "Hey, I'm just sayin. You could have been crushed too."

At first, Derek was going to reply with the knee-jerk reaction of "It's my job," but then he realized that was the point. They were both dedicated. They were both hard workers. An injury like a small burn wasn't going to stop either of them from continuing to do their jobs to full extent of their ability.

Stiles' hand- Derek pressed his lips together momentarily, noting the way the bandages on Stiles' hand almost connected to the bandages on Stiles' wrist.

"Can I ask a personal question?" Derek asked. Stiles had followed his gaze already and nodded, tight lipped. "Do you ever… I mean, do you know how long until you meet your soul mate? I was just thinking that it must be hard for you. You meet so many people every day."

"No."

Stiles shrugged when Derek looked up at his face instead of at his wrist.

"No?"

"I have no idea," Stiles amended and crossed his arms behind his head, careful not to hit his hand. "Next you're going to ask why I don't just check, and I'll say I never take the wristbands off, even when I don't have the wrapping on. Then you'll ask if I wear them in the shower, and listen. I just don't look at my wrist, alright? I gave up on true love when I got famous."

"Gave up?" Derek's brow knit together.

Another shrug. "I don't know, dude. In this business, everyone's always telling you they love you. People you don't even know, you know? And everything gets confusing. I figure… if I'm gonna meet the right person, we'll pick each other because we love each other, right? Not because we were looking for each other."

It was so similar to what Jennifer had said, about not letting the universe dictate who you loved, and yet it was more personal. Stiles didn't involve the universe. It was just him and the other person. The way it should be.

Derek didn't realize they were having a staring contest until someone knocked on the bus door.

"Yeah?" he called out, not looking away from Stiles, who lowered his arms to his lap.

"Breakdown is done," Jordan called out, opening the door. "Stiles ready to go?"

"Stiles ready to go!" Stiles shouted enthusiastically back, and Derek shook his head in fond resignation.

Jordan laughed. "Copy that."

When the door shut again, Stiles bounced in his seat. "Hey, before you go, I wanted to apologize for the way I've been acting. That's what I originally wanted to talk about earlier. I'm not usually this big of a dick. I've been having mood swings recently. Trouble sleeping. Melissa's stumped. But whatever it was, my hormones seem to be back on track now, so I was hoping maybe we could try to… forgive and forget?"

Hormones? That was his excuse? He was out of puberty by this point.

"Consider all your rudeness forgotten. But I won't say the same for whatever you do starting tomorrow," Derek said as he stood.

"Hey now," Stiles whined, but he didn't look upset.

With a nod of his head, Derek marked the end of the conversation. "Good night, Stiles."

"Sleep tight, Derek."

And Derek left the bus. Melissa pat him on the shoulder as she passed to get on board and thanked him quietly. Scott nodded at him. Lydia smiled in a way that dared him to take Jordan away, but Derek just smiled painfully back, still unable to handle her, and walked off to let them stay and guard.

Then he was on the next bus and taking a seat by Laura, busy at work on her tablet. Letting her work, Derek leaned back against the windowsill and let out a heavy breath to relax himself. Speaking of hormones, his should be calming down any day now. At most, he had another week of this emotional rollercoaster.

A week. Derek frowned. He'd broken up with Jennifer with a week left in his window to meet his soul mate. Resisting the urge to groan, he ran his hand over his face. What if he'd missed his chance? What if he-

Derek paused with his fingers over his eyes and then pulled his hand away entirely. Glancing out the window, he could make out the tail lights of the bus Stiles was on. Was it possible? He'd met Stiles within the allotted window, hadn't he? But all they currently had was physical attraction. Wouldn't being soul mates require more than that? And was he even really considering this?

Could Stiles be his soul mate?

Someone had decided Derek was on official "Stiles Patch-Up" duty, because every time the bandages on Stiles' hand needed to be redone, someone motioned for Derek to do it. Part of Derek understood. He was always around Stiles when the time came, and he did seem to possess more experience dressing injuries than the rest of the immediate group, but didn't they have a first aid staff member at the concert locations? Didn't Melissa have far more training?

But he didn't complain. While Derek cleaned the wound, Stiles would talk to fill the silence. What he had for breakfast that morning at the hotel, the problem with the costumes for the concert, really anything but nothing at the same time. Derek had never been a fan of small talk, but for some reason none of Stiles' ranting felt like small talk.

It wasn't "Hey, great weather we're having, isn't it?" It was "Okay, but strawberries are supposed to be sweet, but not this sweet. It was like biting into a sugar berry! Oh! Oh, but the pancake was in the shape of a heart, so that kind of made up for it. Who makes heart pancakes? This chef did. He went above and beyond the call of duty to make up for those strawberries." And that was different.

And Stiles sometimes required Derek to add to the conversation. The third time Derek sat down to redo the wrapping, the topic was wardrobe again.

"So you know the jacket I wear during the second set?" Stiles asked, tilting his head to get a different perspective on his hand. Derek grunted. "It's a bit tight. I don't know if you can tell if you're not wearing it, but it's leather and it grabs you… especially after sweating during the first set. Like… come to think of it, I've never seen you wear a jacket. Do you like leather jackets or are you, like, a denim guy?"

"I have two leather jackets," Derek replied, finishing the bandage.

"That's great. You should wear one sometime. I mean, it's gonna be colder the farther north we head, so you might need even more than that," Stiles said.

"Okay, okay," Derek agreed with a soft laugh and packed up to first aid kit. Stiles got up and started pulling on a different jacket, a plain cotton hoodie, and Derek found his eyes catching sight of the wrapping on Stiles' wrist before it was hidden in the sleeves.

He should ask. Stiles wasn't Jennifer, but just like her, he had no idea how Stiles would react to Derek asking to press their wrists together. Stiles never took off his wristband and binding. It felt like asking Stiles to do so for Derek held the importance of asking Stiles to move in together. But maybe… if he posed the idea that they might be….

But of course they might not be. Derek definitely liked kissing Stiles and he wasn't opposed to the singer's company, but they still barely knew each other, and they could be one misunderstanding from another fight.

Derek just had to fight his crazy hormones and think logically about this before he did anything stupid.

"Hey, Derek?" Stiles asked, kneeling by his bag in the break room. Derek couldn't see his face, but he took the time to admire the cut of Stiles' hair, the shape of his shoulders.

"Yeah?"

With a quick tug, Stiles pulled the hood up over his head. "You still dating that reporter?"

"No." In fact, Jennifer hadn't tried to text him or call him or anything since that phone call the previous morning. At least she wasn't a stalker ex, right? But part of Derek worried about the silence.

"What happened?" Stiles had his hands in his bag, but whatever he was looking for couldn't possibly be in there, because the bag wasn't that big and yet Stiles kept moving everything around over and over again as though something new would show up.

"Apparently I'm not ready for a serious relationship," Derek said, quoting Jennifer. Stiles turned then, the strings from his hoodie dangling down his chest. "No, we just had a conflict of interest."

With a sour scoff, Stiles shook his head. "Wow that answer was diplomatic and super vague."

Derek shrugged. "Too bad. That's the answer."

"It's just that… well Scott said you thought she might be your soul mate," and as he said that, Stiles rubbed his right forearm. "You seem pretty serious about your soul mate."

"I don't think she was it for me," Derek said, leaning back in his chair. "When she touched me, I always got these pleasant… feelings on my skin, but we never talked about anything, really. It was like she was never actually there for me, like she wanted something else."

Uncharacteristically, Stiles didn't say anything. He stayed knelt down, hood up, and eyes on the floor. His brow knit every second or so, and Derek liked the intense look on his face, but he also wondered what Stiles was thinking so intently about.

"Don't worry," he said, garnering the singer's attention. "About the soul mate thing. She's not the only person I met this month. I've got other options."

Stiles pressed his lips together. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Stiles pushed his hood down and stood up empty handed before clearing his throat. "I hope they're good options, because with your personality-"

"Yeah. I know," Derek interrupted. And he was smiling, because his chest felt warm, but not like with Jennifer. It was like the lava inside him had calmed but not gone away, and it was more than bearable. It was almost… pleasant. He knew the cause for the change. It was because he was thinking of Stiles as his soul mate instead of as an annoying mystery.

Usually Stiles would smile back and make a crack, but something in the conversation must have made him uneasy, because his smile was weak. "I gotta get to the studio," he said quickly and excused himself.

The lava cooled in Derek's veins. Had he done something wrong? Just yesterday, Stiles would have rejoiced at the news of Derek's break up, made a couple jokes, and probably flirted with him. But today? He seemed distracted and serious. Biting his cheek, Derek took a minute in the silence of the room to go back over everything he'd said. Nothing stood out as negative or insulting.

So why was Stiles so distant?

Derek expected to go over rules and stuff with the next set of locals for the rest of the afternoon, but halfway through explaining emergency keywords, Laura interrupted and called him from the room. His temporary students seemed relieved and glad to be rid of him, but Derek would find them later.

"What's so important, Laura?" he asked as she walked him into a dressing room.

"Something you have to hear for yourself. I didn't want to risk saying it on the radio or sending it via text," she said and motioned to where Lydia, Allison, and the make-up guy, Isaac, were sitting pow wow style on the floor, except Lydia who had a bean bag chair.

"There's no need to cause a stir without evidence," Lydia added with a knowing nod of her head.

Crossing his arms, Derek waited for someone to explain, but no one offered up anything right away. Allison looked uneasy, and Isaac hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder as though whatever news they had was something she needed support to announce.

"What?" he asked sharply.

"Well Isaac was doing my make-up earlier and he mentioned the trouble we've been having. He asked if it was true that Stiles' microphone exploded. I hadn't heard that part, so I asked him to explain but he didn't know. So we called Laura over and she told us everything. And I… I think I know what caused it," Allison said, nodding resolutely as she finished. When she looked up at Derek, there was no fear in her eyes. "More importantly, I'm sure I know who did it."

"Who? You're saying it was sabotaged?" Derek asked, dropping his arms.

"Yes. And if we still have the pieces of the mic, I can prove it."

Preview Chapter 10:

Derek accompanies Stiles to a signing event where a surprising fan conjures up more than a little jealousy in him. Continuing his odd behavior, Stiles actually gives Derek more evidence that they're probably soul mates, but by the end of the night it seems even that won't matter anymore. This may be the end of their relationship altogether when a homicidal car gets involved.