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Derek wipes the sweat out of his eyes and tries his best to clean his hands off on his jeans. He can hear the tow truck coming from down the street which means a new project. He scowls at the motorcycle he’s been working on for over a month. His boss, Frank, told him he could have it once he’s fixed it up. He thinks it might’ve been a joke because there’s no way that thing will ever run again.
He steps out of the garage and squints into the early morning sun. The tow truck pulls up and Derek’s heart stops. There’s only one car on the back of the truck. A bright blue Jeep.
“Derek!” God, he would know that voice anywhere. What is Stiles doing here?
He turns to see Stiles, pinned to the ground by Ennis. Clearly he was brought here as bait, if the shackles around his wrists and ankles are anything to go by. They want him to choose. Revenge or saving Stiles.
He glances at Stiles, who looks even smaller under Ennis. Small and helpless. They make eye contact and Derek sees the fear in his eyes. Fear and something...else.
Derek can feel Scott before he sees him. He knows he’ll save Stiles, so he turns to finish off the rest of the Alpha Pack.
He visits Stiles in the hospital the next day. He lost a lot of blood, but on top of that he’s malnourished, dehydrated, and has a sprained wrist. He was in the Alpha Packs’ cellar for two days. Two days and Derek didn’t notice. None of them did. They were too busy training at the Preserve.
Derek doesn’t regret leaving. Scott is perfectly capable of protecting the Beacon Hills territory; the only good thing to come out of his training with Derek.
He knows Stiles is fine; he stuck around long enough to make sure of that. Everyone else thought he was long gone, which is exactly what he wanted. Once Stiles woke up and he heard Melissa approve him for discharge, he left for real.
He drove 200 miles north where Deaton asked an older pack’s permission to allow another Alpha to live on their land. They agreed, said they owed Talia a favor.
So he got a job at a car shop right outside of town. He didn’t need the money, but he needed the distraction. Frank was old, had inherited the shop from his father. He didn’t have any kids so Derek would probably be out of a job when he passed. Or Frank would give the shop to him. He kind of hopes for the latter. He’d never admit it, but working with his hands has been good for him. It’s hard to think about anything else when you’re working on a motorcycle that hasn’t run in over 30 years.
The tow truck driver, Greg, eyes him suspiciously. “You okay, dude?”
Derek’s heart skips at the word “dude.”
“Fine, yeah.” Derek clears his throat. “That Jeep’s in bad shape.”
“Right? Police station called it in.”
“They say anything about the driver?” Derek hopes he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels.
“Don’t think so, but with the look of this car, don’t think it’s good news.”
Derek swallows hard.
Greg unloads the car and drives off, leaving Derek to approach the Jeep like it might explode at any second. The closer he gets, the more he knows.
This was Stiles’ Jeep.
He opens the door and sits in the driver’s seat, not caring about the broken glass digging into his thighs. He inhales and it settles something in his heart. The car smells like Stiles, sure, but it also smells like pack.
He checks the paperwork to see that the Jeep was picked up off the highway, heading north. Was Stiles was coming to see him? Or at the very least, was he looking for him?
Frank whistles when he sees the car. “That’s gonna be one expensive fix.”
“I’ll do it for free.” Derek offers desperately.
“You know the owner?”
“Nah, just sick of the bike is all.” He was glad Frank wasn’t a werewolf. He didn’t catch Derek’s heart stutter at the lie.
“Alright then, it’s all yours.”
Derek told himself he wasn’t going to check the hospitals. He really, really wasn’t. Until an unsaved number with a Beacon Hills area code calls him two days after the Jeep comes in.
“Derek?”
“Hi, Isaac.” Derek sighs. Just hearing Isaac’s voice calms him.
“I know you gave me this number for emergencies only, but uh, this is kind of a stupid question, but…” Isaac trailed off.
“What is it?” Derek asked, his heart beating faster.
“Well, is Stiles with you?”
Derek feels his blood run cold. Shit. “No. Why?”
“Fuck, okay. He was, um, coming to see you, I think. I didn’t tell him where you were, I swear! He figured it out. Tracking spell, I think. I don’t know. But we haven’t heard from him.”
Derek doesn’t want to worry the rest of his pack, so he doesn’t tell Isaac about the Jeep. But if Stiles hasn’t contacted any of them, that was a very bad sign. So he tells Isaac he’ll go into town and see if he can track down Stiles. It was close enough to the truth that his heart doesn’t stutter.
It takes him 20 minutes of idling in the hospital parking lot before he finds the courage to go in.
The nurse at the front desk eyes him. Maybe he should’ve changed out of his tank top and jeans, both of which are covered in various oils and grime.
“I think my friend was brought in a few days ago.” Derek tells the nurse.
“Name?”
“Uh, Stiles? Stiles Stilinski.”
“I don’t see anyone in our database by that name? Are you sure it’s correct?”
“I’m sure.” Derek says, a little too forcefully. “What about John Doe’s? He was in a car accident a couple days ago.”
“We have two John Doe’s. Let me get the Doctor on call and we’ll see what we can do for you.”
Derek spends what feels like an eternity in the waiting room. When the Doctor arrives, Derek shoots up out of his chair.
“You the one asking about our John Doe’s?”
“Yes, sir.” Derek nods, reaching out to shake the Doctor’s hand.
“You think one of ‘em is your friend?”
“Yes. I work at the auto shop just out of town. His, uh, Jeep was picked up after the accident and I recognized it.”
“Can you describe your friend?”
“He’s tall. Brown hair, brown eyes. Not dark brown, though. They’re light, like honey.” He looks at the Doctor hopefully.
“Any identifying marks? Tattoos?”
“He’s got moles, um, all over the place. Not sure about tattoos. It’s, uh, been awhile.”
The Doctor hums. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I’ll take you to the ICU.”
Derek nods wordlessly and follows the Doctor. They take the elevator up to the fourth floor. Every hallway seems never ending. The Doctor eventually stops at a door, room 487. Derek takes a deep breath.
He enters the room slowly.
The first thing he smells is blood. The second thing he smells is morphine. But the third. The third thing he smells is definitely Stiles.
He approaches the bed and it feels so good to see him again, even in this state. His heartbeat is steady, Derek sighs in relief.
“Is it your friend?”
Derek nods, not trusting his voice.
“Do you have anybody we can contact?”
He nods again.
“Alright. I’ll bring you some of the paperwork.”
He moves slowly to the other side of the bed so he can sit. He can smell the chemicals coursing through Stiles, he assumes that’s what’s keeping him unconscious.
The Doctor explains his condition. His brain swelling has gone down significantly, so they will take him off the meds that are inducing his coma tomorrow morning. He should wake up naturally after that.
“What caused the accident?”
“Drunk driver. Our other John Doe. Your friend was parked on the side of the road, we assume he was sleeping. Drunk driver came barreling down the road, hit the drivers side, and sent them both into the trees.”
It says something about Derek’s concern for Stiles and self control that he doesn’t immediately find the other John Doe and rip his throat out. With his teeth.
Derek stays at the hospital overnight. He texts Isaac to tell him that he found Stiles. He doesn’t mention anything about the hospital. He calls the Sheriff next. Apparently they’re dealing with a faerie problem. He tells Derek he’ll be there by morning and agrees not to tell the pack until after the faeries are dealt with.
It’s the longest night of Derek’s life.
The sun is just rising when Stiles’ coughing wakes Derek from his thinly veiled sleep. Derek immediately rushes to his side and presses the call button. He hands Stiles a cup of water. He’s surprised (and maybe a little bit impressed) the younger boy doesn’t choke upon seeing Derek at his bedside.
“Your dad should be here soon.” Derek says softly, not sure how else to break the silence.
Stiles nods. Derek can’t help but chuckle.
“How did you know I was here?” Stiles asks, his voice rough.
“Your Jeep came into the shop I work at, wasn’t hard to find you after that.”
“Is my baby okay?”
“I haven’t had much time to work on it,” Derek laughs. “But she’ll be fine.”
“Did they tell you what happened?”
“Drunk driver hit you while you were sleeping. He’s still unconscious.” Derek ignores how fragile his voice sounds.
“Asshole.” Stiles mutters. “Surprised you haven’t killed him yet.”
“There were more pressing matters.” Derek smiles.
“Why did you leave?”
Derek sighs. “Getting right into it aren’t we?”
Stiles shrugs.
“I don’t know. I guess the Alpha Pack using you as bait made me realize I didn’t want to keep putting you in harm's way. I figured if I left, went off the radar, that you would stop ending up in the hospital because of me. Clearly I was wrong.”
“At least this time when I woke up, you were here.” Stiles smiles slightly.
“Why were you coming to see me? Isaac said you used a tracking spell to find me. Have you been working on your magic with Deaton? Your dad said the pack was dealing with a faerie problem.”
“Woah, dude. You’re starting to sound like me.” Derek rolls his eyes affectionately. “I was coming to see you because I realized you weren’t coming back on your own. Yes, I’ve been working with Deaton and yes, there was a slight faerie problem before I left.”
“Why would I come back?”
“Scott kind of agreed that you belong in Beacon Hills with the rest of us.”
“And where did that decision come from?” Derek asks, even though he thinks he knows the answer.
“I think mostly he was just sick of seeing me moping.”
“Moping? Over me?”
Now it was Stiles’ turn to roll his eyes affectionately. “You really think I’m not equally as in love with you as you are with me?”
Derek surges forward at that, careful not to jostle the injured boy below him too much, and presses their lips together. Which is how the Sheriff finds them, a few hours later, cuddled together in Stiles’ tiny hospital bed.
He snaps a picture and sends it to the pack group chat. Only Lydia has the sense to ask why they’re in a hospital, followed by a dozen heart eye emojis.
As expected, Derek returns to Beacon Hills. Although not before fixing the Jeep, and Frank’s motorcycle. Stiles may or may not stay with him for the three months it takes for him to get his life in order.