HEY GUYS! No answers on that idea to do Holiday Extras yet?! Come oooon. Still time before Halloween if any of you like the idea~. Let me know!

I have about 2-3 chapters left on this plot point (I'm considering a short extra hospital chapter after next containing BBW Peter, and after that weird little home alone chap for Stiles) and then we'll be moving on to the plot in ep 3. Whiiiiich may or may not include Stiles and Derek joining the group date because this is a Sterek story damn it...

Will Dawg: I KNOOOW! THIS IS SUCH A CONFIDENCE BLOW HE DOESN'T DESERVE! Hopefully next time his friends can reassure him~. But yeah, I noticed that too? Apparently if you make Jackson less of an asshole, situations around him become pretty homoerotic? Weird.

Guest who is staying Guest bc Idk why not: Hi, this is awesome, thanks I love you. 3

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Stiles stirred back to consciousness, guided but the gentle shaking of his shoulder, squeezing when he found a hand holding his own, opposite the person shaking him awake.

"Stiles..." He heard Derek's voice whisper to him, in a tame sort of awe. "I think he's waking up." Stiles kept his grip as tight as he could, having trouble forcing his eyes open. He managed to squeeze them shut tighter, so at least he was sure he could move them.

"Mmhn." He groaned weakly, to let them know he was trying to. The hand shaking him rubbed his arm comfortingly.

"Stiles, dear, wake up..." Cas' voice cooed at him best it could, as gravelly as when they met weeks ago. Dean had said it meant he was anxious. Stiles reached out his right hand looking to comfort Cas, but unable to find him. He gave up, instead bringing it to his face, as much as he was able, to rub his eyes to action. He squinted them open only to squeeze them shut, groaning again.

"Too bright; Derek, stop smiling." He felt the hand in his left shake with laughter and he smiled. Derek's hand left his, the other coming up to squeeze his shoulder.

"I'll dim the lights, be right back..." He let go and Stiles could hear him walk away.

"Don't break anything..." Stiles hummed softly after him. He groaned some more before Derek made his way back. He could tell the lighting had dimmed. He squinted his eyes back open sleepily, looking to Cas first, giving him a smile.

"I feel like I got hit by a truck..." He said to the both of them. Cas sighed softly. Relieved Stiles felt well enough to at least be jovial about it. He looked over his shoulder, towards the door, to assure no one was close enough to hear.

"You were thrown to the ground during the game. You suffered a concussion as a result. I healed it as best I could, but you may still feel a bit disoriented." Stiles shook his head lightly, feeling dizzy just from that.

"Not too much. Thanks, Cas. Sorry for worrying you guys. Where's-?" Cas nodded.

"Dean and the others are still at the game." Stiles went pale a moment with panick.

"Shit, Scott. Is he okay?" He turned his attention to Derek. "Why are you even here? You should-" Derek put his hand on Stiles' arm to calm him.

"Scott told me to come make sure you were alright. He has your family there for support." Stiles huffed out of stubborn worry.

"But-"

"He'd just have been more worried if I hadn't. You're the closest thing to pack he has." Stiles laid back and sighed. "It's been a while, though. I'm sure they'll be here soon."

"I just- This isn't as big of a deal as you guys are making of it. I'm fine, I feel fine." Cas gave him a concerned look though.

"That may be the case, but according to your Doctor, had you still been running when you were hit, you'd likely be dead." Stiles looked up at Cas, eyes wide with shock. "We're certainly grateful you feel okay, but the situation did prove worrying." Silence filled the room as Stiles let that sink in, and Derek took his hand. He tried to be gentle, as Stiles seemed on edge now as it was.

"Not that I'm not glad, but... Why did you stop?" Stiles turned his attention to his lap, a look so serious it began to discomfort Derek. "Stiles?" Stiles glanced up, pulled out of his concentrated thought.

"I don't really know. Something just... told me I should stop." Derek's eyebrows quirked up. He looked up at Cas on the other side of the bed when Stiles' eyes left him.

"Like... intuition? Instinct?" Stiles inhaled sharply, eyes focused on inspecting his free hand nervously.

"No... Like a voice, but..." Stiles closed his eyes, shook his thoughts from his head. "No, it was probably just intuition messing with me. Or the concussion. Who knows." Derek nodded. If it was going to make Stiles this uncomfortable, he'd drop it. At least for now. His thumb brushed over the back of Stiles' hand.

"It doesn't matter right now. All that matters is you're alright..." Cas nodded.

"Indeed... I'll go ask about dinner arrangements." Stiles smiled up at him as he stepped away.

"Thanks, Cas..."