Archive of Our Own ^beta

The ringing of a bell was starting to get on Derek's nerves. He really regretted giving his husband that damn thing. At the time, when he'd handed over what would become the instrument of his doom, it was because he'd felt guilty. If he hadn't bought the house and taken Stiles there to surprise him with it, Stiles never would have broken his leg. Maybe if he'd fixed up some of the more notable things wrong with it, like the wood rot on the floor, none of this would have happened. But nope, Derek had been too excited and proud of his massive and romantic move in buying them a house to think about doing anything like that beforehand. So Stiles had stepped on some rotten wood, tripped in the resulting hole and ended up with a broken leg.

The doctor had told him to take it easy, had told him that resting his leg would be better for it than anything else. He had crutches so he could get around, of course, but Derek had felt incredibly guilty so had stuck with the rest order. He'd made sure Stiles stayed laid up and then had gone that one step further and gotten him a bell so he could call Derek to tend to his needs. It didn't matter how far away he was, he'd still hear the bell ringing and come running, a perk of being a werewolf.

At first Stiles had been reluctant to use it, had tried to get around by himself, but Derek had been adamant that he use it.

That turned out to be a mistake.

A very big mistake.

After that first refusal to use the bell, he'd started using it more than he even needed to. If he needed a snack, he'd ring it. If he decided he wanted a completely different snack after staring the one Derek had already brought him, he'd ring it. If he needed help getting up to go to the bathroom, he'd ring it. If he suddenly decided that he wanted to change shirts in the middle of the day for no discernable reason so needed to retreat to his bedroom to do so, he'd ring it. He even started using it when something was just out of reach instead of doing something as simple as moving over an inch to be able to reach it.

Derek loved his husband. He was glad he had him in his life, especially after how long it took them to get their act together. But if he heard that stupid bell ring one more time because Stiles decided he wanted his leg moved into another position and didn't just lift his leg up to do it, he might possibly kill him.

He was washing up the dishes in the sink when he heard it. Tingalingaling. His shoulders twitched and he heard the plate in his hands crack. Still, no matter how annoyed he was with that damn bell, he still dutifully turned around and headed into the living room to see what Stiles wanted.

"My nose itches." Stiles said as he walked into the room, giving him a sweet grin. Derek stared at him in annoyance. His nose itched. His nose itched and he'd called Derek in to scratch it, even though he'd just tapped it to indicate the problem.

"Your nose. Itches." He repeated and Stiles nodded, his grin turning into a somber look. He let his lip jut out in a pout, tilting his face up towards him, trying to look pathetic. Derek glared at him but still reached out and scratched it lightly. He was in the middle of scratching it when Stiles suddenly groaned and slapped his hand away.

"Seriously? You're just going to scratch my nose? Even though I can do it myself?" He asked, reaching up his hand and demonstrating just how well he could scratch it without help. Derek stared at him in surprise, having no idea what was going on.

"You asked me to. You rang the bell." He pointed out. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"I was trying to make a point." He told him. "It wasn't your fault, Derek. I stepped on a bad patch of wood, it happens. I fell and broke my leg. None of that is your fault." He told him. Derek stared at him, not getting it. Stiles threw his hands up in the air, looking fed up. "For as long as I've known you you've blamed yourself for everything. Not everything is your fault. I was trying to prove that." He explained.

Derek blinked at him for a moment. "And calling me up here to scratch your nose proves that?" He asked. He was completely confused. He honestly had no idea where any of this was coming from.

"Yes!" Stiles shouted, realizing how stupid that sounded as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "I was making you do stupid things for me so you would stop making me stay on bed rest, which is so not what Doctor Parsons was saying by the way, and just let me do things myself." He added. Derek stared at him dumbly.

"And instead of just telling me that, you decided to do stupid things to get me so annoyed that I'd snap?" He asked. Stiles shrugged.

"I'm a Stilinski-Hale now, my plans are bound to not be well thought out some of the time." He told him, making Derek roll his eyes fondly. "And to be fair, I did try telling you at first, you just didn't want to hear it." He pointed out. Derek had to admit that was true.

"Okay, you can use your crutches to get around." He told him and Stiles grinned and nodded, throwing his arms around Derek's neck and giving him a quick kiss.

"Thank you. If I had to stay laid up I could not be held accountable for my actions, I‘m just telling you now. You really dodged a bullet, buddy." He told him. Derek chuckled but nodded. "Now, while you're here, could you get me a glass of water?" He asked. Derek rolled his eyes, getting up but dropping a kiss to the top of Stiles' head before he turned away.

"Get it yourself." He told him, walking back into the kitchen. He could practically feel Stiles' grin searing into his back and that made him happy.

"That's more like it." He said happily. "But wait, how am I supposed to carry it back with my crutches?" He asked a moment later, making Derek roll his eyes and laugh.