Thanks [EN] - 003

After receiving a panicked phone call from Scott hastily informing him the alpha pack had been at the warehouse again and the pack was injured, Stiles couldn’t get into his car fast enough. He completely ignored the speed limit, driving his poor old jeep as if he was trying to reenact parts of his laps around the tracks in Need for Speed. It wouldn’t have surprised him if he had driven his car into a tree somewhere along the road, with the way his mind was already mostly at his destination, but somehow he managed to make it to the warehouse alive and in one piece.
      He wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved or even more worried at the lack of the sound of fights going on inside the big metal building when he arrived. He decided not to give it much thought at all, and just hurried inside.
      The scene that greeted him was horrible, but less so than he had half feared, half expected. There was probably enough blood smeared on the walls and pooled on the floor to fill a fully grown human, but at least the five werewolves licking their wounds in the middle of the room all seemed to be relatively fine. Boyd had a claw wounds all the way across his chest that weren’t completely done healing yet, Jackson looked like Scar from the Lion King with the cut on his face and Erica was softly whining at the agonizing pain of her apparently completely crushed right leg healing itself, but Stiles couldn’t notice anything wrong with Scott or Isaac apart from some torn clothing and lots of dirt and blood that hopefully wasn’t all the pack’s. At least at first glance no one seemed to be in any serious danger.
      Still, there was no question what his first words would have to be. “Is everyone okay?” he asked, before he had even fully reached the group.
      Scott seemed relieved to see him. “Yeah, looks like it. The alphas are gone, I think.”
      If that was true, it would definitely be categorized in the saddeningly empty folder in Stiles’s mind reserved for unexpected pieces of luck. “Where’s Derek?”
      Scott shrugged, a little tense. “Outside somewhere. He went after the last one, that woman.”
      “On his own?”
      “Yeah.” Stiles was already on his way out of the warehouse again when Scott called after him. “Hey, where are you going?”
      “To find Derek.”
      “Should I come with you?”
      Stiles shook his head. “No, stay there, heal. I think I’ll be alright. I hope.”
      “Be careful!” was the last thing he heard Scott tell him, before he stepped out into the night again. He jogged towards the tree line and decided to simply walk straight into the forest, in hopes of encountering something that would guide him in Derek’s direction. He didn’t have to walk far before he stumbled over the most obvious sign possible: Derek himself.
      He was lying on the ground, very still, and didn’t look well. Even in the darkness Stiles could see he was pale, but that seemed only logical considering the three deep gashes in his chest. It was still rising and falling, indicating he was breathing, but only very slowly and unevenly. Stiles fell to his knees next to Derek and tried hard to remember if he had ever read anything useful during his countless hours of research that could guide him in this situation. What was he supposed to do with a practically dead werewolf?
      Derek coughed. Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise, but then Derek was trying to get up and at the same time doubling over in pain, swaying left and right too far to convince Stiles he was in any way ready to stand again. Stiles caught Derek before he fell over. “My God, you’re heavy,” he groaned.
      “Stiles?” Derek mumbled.
      “The one and only. I think you should lie down for a bit, dude. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold you for much longer.”
      Derek shook his head slowly, as if he was trying to shake off the terrible pain he was probably in. “No. No, I’m fine. I can walk.”
      “Er, no, you can’t. But go ahead and prove me right, if you insist.” Stiles really felt like dropping Derek, the stubborn sourwolf. The only thing stopping him was the fact Derek obviously needed him.
      “Alphas are gone. Have to get to the warehouse.”
      “The pack is okay. I mean, really okay, not okay like you are.”
      “Good,” Derek said, but that didn’t seem to divert him from his plan to get to the warehouse. Stiles sighed and let Derek try to take a step forward, at which he nearly stumbled and fell face first to the ground, only prevented from this fate by Stiles catching hold of him again. Derek’s wounds were healing, and they were healing fast, but even Derek’s alpha body needed time to deal with damage this severe. Derek was not ready yet to walk, but since Stiles was pretty sure he would try to anyway, ignoring whatever logical and reasonable arguments Stiles would come up with, he figured he could just as well try to help him as best he could. He wormed his way under Derek’s arm, winding his own arm around Derek’s waist, and half carried, half shoved Derek forward.
      The further they came, the less Derek was letting himself be supported by Stiles. He started carrying more and more of his own weight, eventually even shaking Stiles off completely once they’d almost reached the edge of the forest. Stiles rolled his shoulders. “Man, I have to repeat, you are heavy.”
      A hand on his shoulder stopped Stiles. He turned around, expecting to see Derek scowl at him for being his annoying self, but instead finding Derek with a strange expression on his face. He looked like he might be trying to seem nice, which was so weird Stiles immediately decided it had to be something else and he was misinterpreting it. There was no misinterpreting Derek’s words, however. “Thanks, Stiles.”
      Derek had never thanked him for anything. Stiles opened his mouth to say something, stunned. He closed it again, realizing there were no words coming out and he probably looked like a goldfish. Eventually, he just went for flailing his hands awkwardly. “That’s- That’s okay. No problem. No problemo, in Spanish.”
      Derek nodded, as if Stiles hadn’t just reacted as stupidly as he possibly could, seemingly satisfied to leave it at this. He turned and headed towards the entrance of the warehouse. Stiles followed two seconds later.
      “You know, I could get used to this. A you with manners, I mean. It’s sort of nice to-”
      Derek didn’t even look back. “Stiles, shut up.”
      Stiles grinned. “Shutting up.”