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Chapter Text

“ Ambulance 49. Truck 51. Squad 5. MVA. Southeast Taylor and 17th .”

Stiles hopped up from the table, leaving his lunch sitting where it was. He watched as a few of the other guys groaned, but he didn’t care. He never really cared, as long as he was doing his job and saving lives. He bumped shoulders with Boyd and Scott as they walked out, trying to squeeze past them as they moved. 

As he walked out into the garage, he saw Derek duck out of the equipment room. “What’s up?” Stiles asked, the two of them falling into step as they pushed through the doors and out to the trucks. 

“Someone put shaving cream in my helmet again,” Derek growled, his arms tense. 

“And who could that be?” Stiles asked, feigning innocence. He elbowed Derek playfully as he half jogged over to the rig, hopping into the passenger seat.

The rig started up, Isaac quickly pulling them out of the station. “Pranks again?” Isaac asked, rolling his eyes. “Aren’t you a little old for pranks?”

  “Maybe you’re too stuck up to understand a friendly prank rivalry,” Stiles said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Stuck up? I’m not the one who’s a snob about what kind of bread we have in the kitchen,” Isaac said, snorting. 

  Stiles jabbed at him. “Shut up, I like good bread.”

They stayed quiet after that, the two of them starting to prepare for what was likely to be an entire mess of an accident. 

  Whenever they got MVA’s, multiple vehicle accidents, they were usually messy. Even if everyone was safe, and the cars didn’t need their expertise, they were frequently the first ones on scene and had to direct traffic and keep everyone safe and clear until the police showed up. On top of that, car accident patients were often more honery than other injured people, and they never wanted to sit still and listen to the paramedics about anything. 

The last MVA they had been on, the one man clearly had a concussion and was lying about his symptoms. It wasn’t until he attempted to stand and cross the parking lot that he realized how dizzy he was. 

  When they approached, their rig having gotten there first, Stiles clenched his jaw at the sight. 

  There were two cars in a clear head on collision, both crumpled up with shattered glass. Behind one of the cars was a car that must not have stopped early enough, and it’s front end was smashed into the other rear end. There was a fourth car somehow involved, but it looked as if it wasn’t too damaged based on the fact that it’s owner had pulled back and was now standing outside of the car.  

Stiles immediately radioed in. “Four cars, three critically damaged, one pulled aside. We’re going to need all the man power to pull everything apart,” Stiles said. 

“Copy,” Scott replied. 

“Copy,” Derek replied. 

After the confirmation, Stiles and Isaac got to work on dividing and conquering what they could. 

The man up and walking hobbled over to them, explaining what happened as they moved towards the first patient. “The car turned the wrong way onto a one way, and when he hit the tail of his car spun and hit the side of mine. I’m okay though,” the guy said, rubbing the side of his leg. “Just aggravated my bum knee.”

“Alright sir, I’m going to have you walk over to the ambulance to wait,” Isaac said, guiding the man partially back towards their rig. 

When Stiles walked up to the first car, the one who had entered the wrong way, he immediately saw blood from a cut on the man’s forehead. When he tried the driver side door, it was crumpled beyond opening, and locked. The front windshield was shattered, but only partial pieces of glass were embedded into the man’s head. 

“Isaac, check the others for critical before I call a second ambo,” Stiles said, rounding the car to the passenger side. He smashed his elbow through the passenger side windshield, breaking out the last of it so that he could reach inside of the car. He unlocked the passenger side and attempted to wrench the car door open, but the crumpling on the hinges made it impossible. 

“Another critical in this car,” Isaac called, reaching into the shattered window to check out the woman. 

“Requesting backup to the 17th and Taylor call. We have another critical and will possibly need two more rigs,” Stiles called in. 

“Copy,” said the dispatch. 

Stiles quickly strided over to the third crumpled car, this one intact enough for Stiles to open the drivers side door. “Ma’am, are you alright?” Stiles asked, reaching up to feel for her pulse. 

“Fine,” she mumbled, her eyes squinting as she looked towards Stiles. “What happened?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Stiles said, dropping his med bag next to him. He pulled out a collar and got to work strapping it onto her, making sure to gently lift her head up from the seat. 

He heard the two trucks pull in behind him, with Boyd already out and directing traffic away from the accident. A few pairs of footsteps came behind him as he checked for any external injuries, feeling along the woman’s leg in case of a break or a blood clot. 

“Where, boss?” Scott asked, standing above Stiles. 

“Far car is locked and unopenable, check on Isaac, and get me a backboard,” Stiles said, reaching over to unbuckle the woman. 

“Got it,” Scott replied, jogging off and commanding orders to his team. He could hear Derek do the same, his voice loud and powerful as he directed his squad towards the worse off car. 

Once they had the woman backboarded and into one of the arriving backup ambulances, Stiles quickly joined Isaac on the second man. He was conscious, but he had a compound fracture in his lower leg. Scott’s men were working to open up the car frame, but his leg was stuck in a position that was not easily moveable. 

“Enough room to vacuum?” Isaac asked, standing back and watching as they pushed the frame larger and larger. 

“No, let’s board it,” Stiles said, digging into his bag to grab the boards. “Anything besides that?”

“No. Did you check the other guy?” Isaac asked. 

Stiles made a face. “He was too trapped in to get anything done. The squad guys are there now,” Stiles said. “He needs a collar, but I didn’t see if he needed anything else.”

The truck guys had gotten the car frame wide enough for Stiles and Isaac to board the guy’s leg, splinting it so that they could move him out onto a board. When they got him into the board and into their own ambo, they turned their attention to the last guy. 

The third ambo was pulling up, the two EMT’s dropping out. “What’s the sitch?” Greenburg asked, snapping gloves on. 

“Squad is pulling his car apart right now,” Stiles said. 

They turned their attention to where Derek and Boyd and Jackson were all working the jaws, prying open the door after breaking the lock. Because the frame was bent, the car door was not wrenching free easily. It took all three of them to pry off the door, leaving the wide gap for Stiles and Isaac to move into. 

Isaac quickly started assessing external injuries while Stiles felt for a pulse. After a few moments of searching with no respiration, Stiles stood, backing off. “He’s gone,” Stiles said quietly to Isaac, pulling at his arm. 

They both backed up, Greenburg sighing as he gestured towards his partner for the gurney. 

A call like this was never easy, at least not for Stiles. It was always hard to lose someone on scene, especially when the only thing preventing care was extenuating circumstances. He could play the ‘what if’ game all day, but there was no sense to when something inevitable like this happened. 

“Let’s take our guy back,” Isaac said, walking back over to the rig. 

Stiles took one last glance at the scene before starting off. His eyes met with Derek’s for a moment, and instead of the usual cold expression, there was a small sense of sadness in his eyes. 

***

“You okay?” Derek asked, leaning out of his lieutenant quarters. 

Stiles couldn’t help but stare into his eyes for a moment. These were the eyes that Stiles liked, the ones that looked like he cared. They were open and genuine, and so unlike the eyes that Derek showed to the rest of the house. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles said, shrugging. There wasn’t really a lot to say about it. 

“I know you hate calls like that,” Derek said quietly. 

“Inevitable, you know? Nothing could have been done differently,” Stiles said, pressing his lips together. He reached out and pinched Derek’s bicep, trying to bring their conversation back to the playful banter it usually was. 

Derek nodded simply patting the doorway. He ducked back into his room, half shutting the door. That was his clear cue that they were done talking, but that the door was always open for him. 

“What’re you doing talking to Hale?” Scott asked, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and steering him back towards the kitchen. “You left a sandwich on the lunch table and you’re chatting it up with the party pooper?”

“Not really hungry anymore, Scotty,” Stiles said, shrugging. He squirmed out of Scott’s grip, twisting to head back towards the locker rooms. He ignored anything that Scott called after him, his mind set on one thing. 

When he got back to the lockers, he quickly opened his, pulling out the small cigar case from the back. It was his father’s cigar case, from the one and only box of cigars that he ever bought. Inside were a few polaroids of his father and mother when they were young, right before having him. He had a few other trinkets (his dad’s badge, his mom’s favorite handkerchief, their wedding rings), but the pictures were his favorite. It was hard, being without either of them, but it was moments like these that were harder. 

His mother was killed in a car accident well before he could remember. His father was killed by a madman shooting up the sheriff’s station on one of the last nights his father was scheduled to work before retiring. It was why Stiles was so determined to save people, because he wanted to make sure that no other person had their parents taken too early. 

“Hey, Stilinski,” Jackson greeted, heading to his own locker. “Keepsakes?”

“It’s nothing,” Stiles said, closing up the box and putting it back into his locker. “Why are you in here?”

Jackson pulled out a suit bag from his locker, dangling from the hangar. “Lyds is taking me to some fancy lawyer thing tonight, so I have to go hang this up in the bathroom.” He reached over and ruffled the top of Stiles’ head, pushing at it as he walked past. 

Last year, he probably would have gotten shoved off of the bench. It only goes to show how much misunderstanding and how little communicating occurs when two people do not hit it off right away. Stiles was sort of glad that he and Jackson had worked things out to a friendlier place, even if Lydia was most of the reason why they had gotten better in the first place. 

Stiles checked his watch. He had seventeen more hours on shift. Great.

After dinner, Stiles headed upstairs to the bunks for some rest. He was already tired of the looks he was getting from everyone else about the call from earlier, especially from Scott. He loved his best friend, he really did, but he did not need sympathy to work through something like that. He wanted to forget it and move on. He hated living shift to shift, and everyone always wanted to remind him of events in terms of shifts, not moments. He wanted that crash to become a fleeting moment in his memory. 

He had barely sat down when the call came through. 

“ Ambulance 49. Medical emergency at 27th and Broadway.”

Stiles ran back down the stairs grabbing his jacket as he and Isaac headed back out to the ambulance.
***

Derek looked at the cards in his hand, trying to figure out if it was worth it to bet anymore. “Fold,” Derek said, tossing his cards down. He looked across the room at the truck guys who were still up, watching some late night tv. 

“You think Stiles is okay?” Jackson asked, sliding a few chips into the center of the table. 

“From the accident?” Boyd asked, matching his bet. 

“Yeah.”

Derek pushed away from the table, standing quickly. “He hates when everyone worries about him. Give him some space,” Derek said shaking his head. He walked away from the poker table, heading back into the kitchen. 

He absentmindedly looked through the fridge for something to eat, but nothing was really catching his attention. He would normally go back to his quarters, but he really didn’t want to go back until Stiles and Isaac had made it back. Whatever run they were on was taking forever, and it always put Derek on edge when ambo runs didn’t go as quickly as they typically should. 

He decided on cooking up a few Hot Pockets, knowing that they were Stiles’ favorite. They had this rivalry prank thing going on, sure, but he knew better than to try and get him back on a day like this. He had too much respect to be messing with Stiles on a bad day. 

“Those for me?” Stiles asked, breaking Derek out of his thoughts. 

“Of course,” Derek said, pushing the plate towards Stiles. “Wasn’t sure when you’d be back.”

Stiles immediately bit into the Hot Pocket, starting to talk with his mouth full. “It was a long one. Some homeless guy had accidentally stabbed himself through the foot with a knife, and he was acting pretty belligerent when we got there. It took some sedation before we could safely immobilize the injury and transport him,” Stiles rambled, leaning against the counter. 

“Sounds messy,” Derek said, picking up his own plate. 

“Isaac took a shot to the nuts before we got him sedated, so he’s pissed,” Stiles said, laughing around his food. 

Derek smiled, watching Stiles’ face. He looked much better than before. Derek never liked seeing him glum or down because all of the life left his face. He always looked better animated, talking like it wasn’t annoying and acting like his usual self. He watched the way that Stiles’ jaw flexed as he chewed, and the rise and fall of his eyebrows as he talked. He knew he should look away, but he couldn’t. 

“Any calls while we were gone?” Stiles asked, kicking his foot out against Derek’s. 

He shook his head. “Quiet night,” Derek said. 

“At least it’s not like our infamous 17 call shift,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “I don’t even know if I ate that day.”

“Squad had four water rescues in one day, remember? That was a pain in the ass,” Derek said, shaking his head. 

“Oh, I’m squad and I’m so much better than ambo or truck,” Stiles said in a mocking voice, being playful. 

“Shut up,” Derek said, but there was no heat behind it. 

“Thanks for the Hot Pockets,” Stiles said, elbowing at Derek. “If I had to stand here and make them myself, I think I would have died.”

Derek rolled his eyes, shifting so that they stood shoulder to shoulder, both leaning on the counter. He tried to ignore the heat of Stiles next to him, but it was almost inevitable. He pushed any thought of Stiles back into his brain, trying not to give his whole hand away at once. 

“Wanna come get brunch with me in the morning?” Stiles asked, tipping so that his head lay on Derek’s shoulder. “There’s a good place by my apartment.”

“Of course,” Derek said, smiling quietly. 

When they heard someone else walk towards the kitchen, they both straightened up, sliding away from each other. It wasn’t a secret that they were close, but they didn’t want to flaunt anything. 

Dating within house was not frowned upon necessarily, but it was heavily scrutinized. It was why Derek was so hesitant to try anything, because he wasn’t ready for the jokes and the threats from other coworkers. He was afraid to even call their meals outside of shift anything more than hangouts, even though they were clearly becoming dates. Both Derek and Stiles had been quiet about it, not even mentioning things when they were alone. It was too much hassle for either of them while they were still trying to figure everything out.

Chapter Text

Stiles sat on the edge of the rig, going over inventory. He was checking off their usual list, and when it got to the gauze, he noticed that the drawer was stuck. “Isaac, did you replenish the drawer too much? I think it’s stuck,” Stiles said, tugging harder on it. 

A few more tugs and he got it to spring open, with a snake flying out at him. He let out a loud shriek, slamming back into the opposite side of the rig, sliding to the ground as he flailed his arms, pushing the snake off of him. 

“What?” Isaac asked, voice rushed. He took stock of the situation, reaching over to gently pull up the rubber snake. “This is what you’re screeching about?”

Fucking prank. Fucking Derek. 

“That ass,” Stiles said, shaking his head. He took the snake from Isaac, hopping out of the rig. “Finish inventory, I’ll be right back.”

If Stiles had stuck around any longer instead of pushing back inside, he would have heard Isaac say, under his breath, “Fucking lovebirds.” But, unfortunately, Stiles had already walked back into the house, towards the conference room in the back they hung out in. 

Derek was sitting at the poker table, sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper. He was totally oblivious when Stiles dropped the rubber snake around his neck. Instead of jumping, he only flinched, not bothering to look up. The reaction was much less than Stiles had wanted. 

“You know I hate snakes,” Stiles said, gritting his teeth. 

“Good morning, Derek. How’s your coffee, Derek. Did you get a good night’s sleep, or did someone wake you up with a bunch of texts at 2am?” Derek said, spinning slowly in his chair. 

Sheepishly, Stiles smiled at him. He did berate Derek with a slew of texts, but it was only because he had woken up from a dream and needed someone to tell in the moment. It wasn’t necessarily supposed to be a mean thing. He thought Derek might like the thrilling adventures of Stiles and the anthropomorphic stool. 

“Shut up,” Stiles said, cuffing the back of Derek’s head before exiting the room. 

Boyd, from the other side of the table as Derek, looked up at him. “What was that about.”

“Nothing,” Derek said quickly, returning to his coffee. He wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible, but it was proving to be harder and harder. After a few moments, he looked up to have Boyd staring him down. “What?”

“That was not nothing.”

Derek shrugged. “Think what you want to think.”

“Are we talking about Hale and Stilinski?” Jackson asked, plopping down next to Boyd, his coffee in hand. He looked skeptically at Derek, his eyes boring into him. “You can’t tell me that this whole prank war and spending every minute together thing is not homoerotic. I know homoerotic,” Jackson continued. 

“Aren’t you engaged to Lydia?” Boyd asked, putting his newspaper down. 

“So? I can’t also like guys?” Jackson said, looking at the two of them. “Don’t be fucking homophobic right now, because I’ll have to transfer to a house without bigots,” Jackson said, suddenly sounding serious. 

Derek held up his hands in defense. “Can’t be bigotted when I’m bi,” he said, admitting his sexuality out loud. It wasn’t like he really talked about it frequently with his friends, unless it came up somehow. Firehouses tended to be more masculine, had a bit of machismo, so it wasn’t like they were out toting the pride flag and kissing each other in the truck.

“Good. Now go bang Stilinski in the laundry room so that we can move on with our lives,” Jackson said, snagging Boyd’s forgotten paper. 

“ Truck 51. Squad 5. Ambulance 49. MVA on Hawthorn bridge.” 

The guys all sighed, getting up for their first call of the shift. 

***

“What are you even going to do?” Isaac asked, his hands tight on the steering wheel. 

“About what?” Stiles asked, propping one foot up on the dashboard, even though he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Derek.”

Already, he was tired of getting this question. It seemed as if everyone in the house knew before him that he even liked Derek, and now it was as if everyone was determined to hook them up. The last time the house was this invested in a couple was when Allison transferred in as the new candidate on truck, and Scott went wild over her. Those two were rock solid now, which meant that there was no drama for everyone to focus on. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Stiles said honestly. 

“Let me know if you need help. Or someone to kick some ass in your honor,” Isaac said, turning the rig back into the firehouse. 

“You’d do that for me?” Stiles asked, clutching his hands to his chest like a distressed maiden. 

Isaac rolled his eyes. “I’m only doing it so that you won’t be so insolent on our rides. We can’t have bad energy in the rig. It’s bad for my emotional state,” Isaac said, reaching over to smack at Stiles. 

“When we met, I thought we’d hate each other forever, but it seems as if we’re finally getting along,” Stiles said, grabbing at Isaac’s hands. “One day, you and I will be best friends.”

“Doubt I could replace McCall,” Isaac said, pushing off of Stiles. 

“I love you too!” Stiles called after him. 

***

“ Ambulance 49. Truck 51. Squad 5. Overturned semi and collision into a warehouse building.” 

Stiles hopped up from the dining table, following the herd of people out to the rigs. Calls like this, ones that weren’t simple MVAs or small fires, or even distress calls, were always going to be more complicated than the day to day call. They only got things like this once a week, or once every few shifts, so everyone was staying quiet, mentally preparing themselves for the scene that they were going to approach. 

“Stocked?” Isaac said once they were in the rig, the two of them speeding off first. 

“Restocked this morning, and we only had the broken arm, remember? Emergency and shock stuff should be all good,” Stiles said, his fingers idly tapping at the dashboard. 

“How do you want to go about this?” Isaac asked. 

As the lead paramedic, it was always Stiles’ job to make some of the hard calls. In situations like this, where there might be multiple injured people who were not in stable positions, like in car seats, it was hard to decide what exactly to do. 

“Five or more, and we tag them with triage and backup. Under five, we sort and handle, and pull Allison to cover anything we can’t,” Stiles said, his lips twisting at the thought. “We might have more fire than injuries, so let’s hope that it can go smoothly for us.”

Arriving on scene, it was somehow less and more than expected. 

A semi truck had barreled into the side of a warehouse building, turning over in the process. There was the semi truck driver to contend with, but he was in the cab in the hole he had made in the building, with bricks and pieces of building falling onto the truck. There didn’t appear to be any injured people in the warehouse from what they saw, but there was clearly a fire starting to burn. The warehouse looked as if it housed furniture, with wood and cardboard being the most flammable. 

“Grab backboard and collar, I’m going to check for more people,” Stiles said, hopping out of the rig. 

Stiles jogged up to the front, looking around for anyone else lingering on site. With no one visible, he moved as close to the truck cab as he felt comfortable, watching the open hole in the building with careful eyes. 

“Sir? Paramedics, call out if you can hear me!” 

“I can hear you!” the man called back, his voice distant. “My foot is trapped, but I think I’m okay.”

“When the firemen arrive, we are going to put you on a backboard, alright?” Stiles said, bending down to try and get a better look at the man. 

He heard a groaning from above him, and quickly he leapt back from the hole, watching as a large piece of wood crashed down onto the bottom of the semi truck’s cab, jostling the man inside. He heard a scream, but he turned his focus away from the man, hearing the sirens of the trucks headed their way. 

Isaac came over with the backboard and collar, waiting expectantly. “Anyone else?” 

“You’re here!” a man called from the other side, stumbling towards them. He looked wide eyed, his hair a mess. “There are two workers unaccounted for inside,” the man said, running his hand over his head. 

“Are you alright?” Stiles asked, reaching to grab the man’s arm. 

He nodded quickly. “Just shaken, tripped in my haste to get out. Where are the firefighters? Everything’s going up!” 

“Sir, take me to your other workers, and I’ll look them over,” Isaac said, following the man off towards the front of the building, clear of where the fire was. 

Both trucks rolled in, Scott and Derek popping out first to assess the damage. “I’ve got the guy in the truck,” Derek called, motioning his men over. 

Scott tensed his jaw, as if preparing for an argument. “Captain isn’t here yet to decide that.”

“Squad takes the man in the truck,” Derek growled, shoving his helmet onto his head. 

“There’s two trapped inside. Scott, you should take truck to search for them,” Stiles suggested. “I’ve got a backboard and collar for the man in the truck, and you’ll need Allison for any assistance inside,” Stiles reasoned, hating that he had to break up a fight between the two Lieutenants before they could even get to work. 

“Fine,” Scott said, motioning to Allison and Liam. “Danny, Corey, vent the roof.” Those two parted as they all moved into position. They all donned their masks and headed inside, giving a thumbs up before disappearing into the dark warehouse. 

“Parrish is coming?” Stiles asked, following Derek towards the semi truck, grabbing the backboard and collar that Isaac had left. 

“It’s a warehouse fire. As soon as we get this guy unstuck, we have to search the place before it goes up,” Derek said, grabbing the collar from Stiles. “I’m going to get him boarded, and Boyd and Jackson will get him to the ambo. Get the gurney,” Derek said, motioning for him to drop the backboard. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Stiles warned, jogging back towards the ambulance to grab the backboard. Isaac had taken the bag, so he quickly grabbed a splint kit in case the man’s leg was broken. 

Watching Squad work to keep everything safe was always interesting. They were so willing to risk their lives, Derek especially, that they forgot they had lives to save instead. Boyd and Jackson worked to keep the cab of the semi from getting crushed while Derek slithered in, pulling the backboard behind him. The other two squad guys monitored the fuel line and the incoming debris, calling out to the others to keep them as safe as possible. 

A loud groaning echoed before a large piece of metal fell, almost crushing Jackson and Boyd as it struck the cab. The metal frame crushed under the weight, narrowing the entrance even more. How Derek was going to get out now was a mystery, the gap narrower than the backboard would fit. 

“C’mon,” Stiles said to himself, trying to be patient as he waited. 

He could hear the Captain pull up behind him, getting out of the car quickly. “Stilinski, where’s Hale and McCall?” Parrish asked, his eyes scanning the warehouse. Thick black smoke started rising from the top. “Did anyone go up to vent?” 

“I think Danny did, sir. Scott, Allison, and Liam went inside to search for two that were stuck, and Derek is inside the cab of the semi,” Stiles reported, glancing back over to the cab. 

Quickly, Parrish pulled out his radio. “Parrish to McCall, copy.”

“Copy. Two-thirds searched,” Scott radioed back, his voice crackly. 

“Pull back, McCall. It’s going up,” Parrish said, his eyes on the smoke exiting the building. “Danny, off the roof, copy.”

“Copy that, sir,” Danny reported back. The truck, with it’s ladder in the air, had Danny onto it and lowered down from the building swiftly. 

“Sir, we’ve only found one. Sending Allison and Liam back with him,” Scott said. 

Parrish made a face, looking at the smoke. “You have one minute before you need to be out of there, McCall.”

At the truck, more and more debris was falling. Hands reached out from the entrance to the cab, and Jackson and Boyd quickly worked to pull out the man driving the truck. Following him was Derek, who was doing his best to army crawl out on his own. He was almost out when he stopped suddenly, tugging at his leg. 

“My boots stuck,” Derek said, wigging to pull himself free. 

Stiles motioned for Jackson and Boyd to leave the man. “Get Derek, I’ve got him,” Stiles said, waving them off. He collared the truck driver, getting him prepared to be boarded the moment he had another set of hands. 

“I’m here,” Isaac said from behind, dropping the bag down. He helped Stiles roll the man onto the board, strapping him in. 

Jackson and Boyd were tugging at Derek, but he was having a hard time moving. The hole was close to collapsing entirely, with debris that would completely bury Derek in. The other two squad members had fallen back, working to prop open the hole for Derek to slip out of. 

As the last piece of large debris started to fall, Derek pulled free, all of the men stumbling away as a piece of metal collapsed, crushing the truck cab completely. 

“Help get him loaded,” Stiles said to Boyd and Jackson, gesturing towards the truck driver. He knelt at Derek’s side, immediately grabbing his shoulders and pushing him to stay put. “What the hell was that?” Stiles asked, glancing at him up and down as he looked him over. “Ooh, I’m going to get killed today just to spite Stiles,” Stiles said sarcastically, reaching down to prod at the leg that was stuck. 

“I’m fine. My boot caught on a piece of metal,” Derek said, trying to push Stiles’ hands off of him. “Let me get up. 

“Not until you come back to the truck,” Stiles said, reaching up to feel for a head injury. 

“I can’t walk back to the truck if you don’t let me up,” Derek grumbled. 

Stiles blushed, stepping back. He silently walked Derek over to the rig, watching his legs to make sure that he wasn’t limping or doing anything that would signal an injury. He knew he was being paranoid, but he genuinely would do this for any of his coworkers. It just so happened that Derek got hurt more frequently than others, and that Stiles might have cared a little more about his safety. 

“Am I fine?” Derek asked when they got to the ambulance, looking at Stiles. 

“Sure. Get out of here,” Stiles said, waving him off. 

Derek passed closely by him, his hand brushing against Stiles’. Stiles ignored the zing of his heart as Derek walked away, and he somehow felt as if that was totally and completely on purpose. It had to have been. 

“If you’re done, can we get off to the hospital?” Isaac asked, hopping down from the rig. 

***

Derek was pulled into Parrish’s office as soon as they all made it back to the firehouse, which meant that he needed to prepare for a scolding about his behavior. As if that was new information and it mattered whether or not Parrish said anything about him. Parrish wasn’t even that much older than him, just promoted quicker. 

“What was that?” Parrish asked, sitting calmly at his desk. “I need you to stabilize before diving into crumpling cars.”

“My mistake, sir. I apologize,” Derek said, nodding politely. 

“Do not place yourself under eminent danger purely because you are the leader of your squad. I cannot have Stilinski giving me updates about who goes where because none of my lieutenants can respond. Because they’re dead.” 

“I understand. It is not my responsibility what McCall does, though, sir.”

Parrish clicked his pen, very telling that he was frustrated with this particular statement. “He has his own discussion coming based on the fact that he insisted on searching the rest of the building despite orders, but that is his own issue. I do not need tears on my hands because you got injured on call.”

“Tears, sir?” Derek asked.

“Don’t pretend as if the thing you have with Stilinski won’t get in the way eventually. I have ignored it thus far. Don’t make me have to bring it up again because you two can’t keep your emotions in check during a call,” Parrish said. He clicked his pen once more, looking down at his papers. “Dismissed.”

Derek numbly walked out of the office, unsure of what to say. 

He knew he was obvious when he flirted. Obvious enough that his squad members had picked up on it. If they didn’t have a bet, they would by the end of this month. This was not something that he was particularly excited about, considering that Derek hated involving his private life at all. 

The fact that Parrish knew, and that he assumed they were together, was a little harder for Derek to wrap his head around. Sure, he had dreamed of being with Stiles ever since that bright smile and goofy attitude had sauntered its way into his life. Even when they were arguing on calls at the beginning, trying to find a balance between saving lives and risking their own, Derek had wanted to kiss the argument off of Stiles’ lips. 

It was stupid, and he knew he was pining after someone when he wasn’t ever really sure that he felt the same. It was hard to pretend as if they could be together when they hadn’t crossed that line yet. Neither of them would even dare to admit they had feelings, for fear that they would ruin what they had already built. They just spend their time worrying about each other, and hoping that it was enough. 

“A lot on your mind?” Stiles asked, finding Derek in his bunk. He leaned against the doorway, eyes watching Derek. “Finally decided that diving headfirst into crushed cars was dangerous enough?”

“Never too dangerous if it saves lives,” Derek said, shaking his head. 

“Not even if I ask pretty please?” Stiles said, pouting a little bit. 

“Okay, maybe then,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. 

Stiles walked into the room, sitting on the bunk. “The guys are watching Nightmare on Elm Street in honor of Halloween, but I’ve seen too many burn victims for that to be enjoyable anymore. Wanna watch a romcom with me?” Stiles asked, leaning back on his elbows. 

“Sure. As long as you’re okay with everyone talking about us,” Derek said, grabbing his laptop off of the desk. 

“Talking about us? Why?” Stiles asked. He swallowed nervously, sitting up a little straighter. 

Explaining to Stiles that everyone thought they were dating, or that they should date, was much harder than he had originally anticipated. How was Derek going to say that everyone wanted them to date while keeping a straight face? He could barely make him dinner without blushing at the thought of Stiles moaning around a spoon. Sometimes, around Stiles, he felt so weak. 

“Nothing, nevermind,” Derek said, motioning Stiles aside. 

“Nevermind? You cannot say that,” Stiles said, pushing at Derek’s hip. 

Derek cleared his throat, trying not to give anything away. “They’ll just say we’re stupid for watching a romcom. Even though I hate the idea of watching a burn victim murder teenagers.”

“Let them talk. They’re stupid as all hell if they think that some horror movie is better than watching Anna Kendrick fall in love,” Stiles said, pulling at Derek’s laptop. He signed on quickly, already having memorized Derek’s password. They were far too open with each other, all things considered. But that wasn’t a bad thing. 

“You’re going to jinx us, by starting the movie,” Derek said, leaning back into his pillows. He shifted to the side as Stiles slid back, their hips pressed together on the small twin bed. 

“No I’m not,” Stiles denied, starting to get settled. 

As soon as they had the movie playing, the chimes of a call came through. 

“ Ambulance 49. Truck 51. MVA on 21st and Belmont .”

Stiles groaned, pushing the laptop onto Derek. “Enjoy sitting here alone, loser,” Stiles said, walking out of the room. 

Derek couldn’t help but smile at Stiles walking away, knowing that they’d get to the movie eventually. 

***

“So I might be hooking up with Danny,” Isaac said, his voice quiet. It was barely audible over the noise of the rig. 

“Really?” Stiles asked, handing Isaac his milkshake. “I didn’t know you were queer.”

“You didn’t know I was queer? I thought it was obvious,” Isaac said, frowning. “We’ve hooked up in the laundry a few times,” Isaac added, as if the specifics were totally necessary. 

“That’s kind of hot,” Stiles said, taking a long sip of his milkshake.

“So when are you and Derek going to hook up back there?” Isaac asked, as if this was obvious. 

“I thought we weren’t talking about that,” Stiles said, looking pointedly over at Isaac. 

He wasn’t ready to admit that he was willing to sacrifice everything to be with Derek, because if he did, then everything was real. He wasn’t ready to have to make real, hard decisions about his life. All he wanted was a quiet existence, without everyone talking about him or making assumptions. He wanted to find Derek on his own time. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave it be,” Isaac said.

***

“Want to go get some breakfast?” Stiles asked, grabbing Derek’s arm and holding him back, as everyone was flooding out of the doors after the end of their shift. 

“Yeah, wanna take my car?” Derek asked, gesturing towards his Camaro. As if that was some sort of badass ticket that he needed to flaunt in order to be seen as cool. 

“Yes. The Jeep broke down this morning a few blocks away, and I have no idea how to fix it,” Stiles said, following Derek. 

“I know how to fix cars, you know. I was a mechanic before all of this,” Derek said, bumping his shoulder into Stiles’ as they walked. 

The urge to reach over and tangle his fingers with Derek’s was large, but he forced himself to hold back. He didn’t want to push things any further, knowing that breakfast had to be enough for him for right now. 

“That would be great. I don’t want to have to pay for a tow truck unless something is actually wrong with it,” Stiles said, hiking his bag further onto his shoulder. 

“You’ll owe me though,” Derek teased, unlocking his car. 

Quick flashes of sex went through Stiles’ mind as he imagined himself shoved against a wall, or hands tied above his head, or hips bruised with deft fingers. He blinked quickly to push those images away, his eyes and brain trying to refocus. 

“I can pay you in baked goods?” Stiles said, sliding down into the car. 

“As long as you make me that chocolate pie again,” Derek said, starting the car. 

The drive to the diner was short, but it was too far to walk with their bags. Stiles chatted idly about what sorts of things he was going to do with his day to himself, all while wishing that he was sharing the whole day with Derek. They had done that in the past, breakfast turning into lunch at someone’s place, turning into a movie or video game marathon, and then falling asleep on each other’s couches. It made it somehow harder to go back to work, knowing that they were forced to spend time with other people and not just themselves. 

“If you order two whole breakfasts again, I’m going to leave you here to pay the bill,” Derek warned as they slid into a booth, the sticky vinyl rubbing against their starched work pants. 

“That was one time! And you know I regretted it immediately,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “Plus, you only had two calls that shift. I had ten. I think that calls for a celebration double breakfast,” Stiles reasoned, not even bothering to pick up the menu. 

Over the last two years that they had worked together, they had gone out for breakfast quite a bit. The numbers piled up quickly over time, and Stiles already knew he preferred to get either a Denver omelette, or blueberry pancakes. Derek always got three eggs, sunny side up, wheat toast, and five slices of bacon. He said that he needed ‘protein’, but Stiles always shook his head. Diner food was not about being healthy. 

“When’s your next official day off?” Stiles asked. 

“Two weeks from now. I’m flying back to New York for my sister’s wedding,” Derek said, shrugging. 

“She’s marrying that guy?” Stiles asked, leaning back in the booth. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“Still don’t.”

“If I had my day off at the same time, I’d come with and help you beat up her fiance, just for the hell of it. My next day isn’t for three more months, but I have no idea what I’m going to do with it,” Stiles said, fingers fiddling with each other. As much as he’d like to say I want to spend it with you , he couldn’t. He was too afraid to breach their established relationship, to go beyond the gentle barbs and the worrying. 

“Thought you and McCall were determined to get all of your days off together,” Derek said, his voice quiet. 

“Yeah, that was before Allison. Now, they schedule everything they do together. They spend more time together than any couple I know, and it’s sickening. I couldn’t imagine riding with them, the kind of gushy talk they use regularly,” Stiles said, making a face.

“Why so averse to romance?” Derek asked, grabbing out sugar packets for his coffee. 

Stiles made a face, trying to process his thoughts first. “Not averse. Just annoyed. But it’s no big deal.” 

They stayed quiet for a moment as the waitress brought out their coffee. 

“Anyways, I have this new video game that I really want to play, but obviously Scotty’s too busy, so do you wanna come over and play it sometime?” Stiles asked, trying to change the conversation quickly. 

He did not want to admit that he was jealous of Scott and Allison. He feigned it off as frustration, but he was actually jealous, and desperately so. He wanted to be sickeningly cute, wrapped up in each other, and spending every minute together, in love. But he wanted that with Derek, and explaining that to Derek’s face was not something he was exactly keen on doing. There was no real way to put it that Derek would understand. 

“Sure, Stiles. Even though I suck at it,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. 

“You won’t suck this time!” Stiles assured him, patting his hand condescendingly.

Chapter Text

“ Ambulance 49. Truck 51. Squad 5. Battalion. Fire at 2100 apartment block.”

Apartment fires were dreaded in any firehouse. It meant that there were likely multiple victims, and that it was going to take a lot of resources. The guys got quiet and serious as they walked out. Even Scott grabbed Allison’s hand briefly, their fingers squeezing together before they parted to get geared up. People knew how dangerous apartment fires were. 

There was a man, prior to Parrish, that was their captain. Deucalion. No one liked him at firehouse 51, but when there was a fire in a large apartment building, he went in to save Scott. He never came back out. 

Firehouse 51 took apartment fires seriously. 

The drive over was quiet in the rig, even though Isaac and Stiles usually chatted aimlessly. Neither of them wanted to admit how intense it would be on the scene, and they did not want to imagine what sorts of calls Parrish would be making. He was a new captain, barely older than Derek, and it was hard to trust and rely on someone when you hadn’t seen them tested at the moment. This was his test. 

“The second we have confirmation of a second victim, I’m radioing for backup,” Stiles said, making sure he had everything packed in their go bag. “Follow me, we’ll work together on everyone. We can’t split up if someone starts coding because of burns,” Stiles added, his eyes focused. 

“I know Stiles. I’ll be on your hip,” Isaac said. He reached over and patted Stiles’ arm, attempting to be comforting. It was only mildly successful. 

There was a calmness when they arrived on scene, the flames barely licking out of the upper windows. The smoke hadn’t turned black yet, so they had time. They definitely had time. 

A neighbor who had turned their hose on the flames immediately dropped it, running over to Stiles and Isaac. “Thank god you’re here. There are at least ten units in there,” the man said, his hands gripping his head. “I called 911 as soon as possible.”

“You did the right thing,” Stiles said calmly, patting the guy's shoulder. 

Parrish rolled up in the battalion car, his eyes examining the smoke and the apartment building quickly. Truck and squad rolled up right behind him, hopping out of their respective trucks quickly, standing behind him in waiting. 

“Squad, take the basement and first floor. Truck, second and third. Danny and Liam, vent the roof. Hale, Whittmore, help truck when you’ve finished. Go,” Parrish said, his voice commanding. He watched them all slide their masks and helmets on, pairing off as they dove into the house. 

After a few seconds, the first radio crackled in. “ One on first floor. Boyd’s got him. Over.”

Shortly after, Boyd came tumbling out of the building, a man slung over his shoulders. He laid him down on the damp grass outside of the building, taking care to set him down gently before moving back into the building. 

“Are you alright sir?” Stiles asked, grabbing a flashlight to check his eyes while Isaac grabbed a pulse. 

He coughed dryly, waving his hand in front of his face. “Nothing hurts, just passed out from the smoke,” he said, shaking his head. 

Stiles reached for the radio on his shoulder. “Is backup coming?”

“ Affirmative. ETA 3 minutes. Two ambos. ”

Isaac nodded, dashing back to the ambulance to grab water. They would likely sideline this guy for now, if all he had was a little bit of smoke inhalation. They didn’t know the state of everyone else yet. 

“ Two upstairs. Third floor clear, ” Scott’s voice crackled over the radio. 

Only moments later, Allison and Corey came out, one carrying a woman, the other a child. They left them at Stiles, and both went back in, moving quickly to clear the second floor. 

The woman had minor burns on her hands, which Isaac immediately started tending to. It seemed as if the child had made it out okay, with only a burn on his leg. “Any other burns?” Stiles asked the woman, hoping that everything else was fine. 

She shook her head. “I pulled him away from the fire as quickly as possible.”

They worked on the two as they waited for more calls, for the rest of the men to come out. It was only a few seconds, but in fires like this, seconds felt like hours and every moment spent in the building was another risk for one of their crew. 

“ Second floor clear. Allison and Corey are going out. I’m headed to help Derek in the basement. ”

“Negative, McCall,” Parrish said, shaking his head. “Smoke’s turning black. Hale, update.”

“Two stuck in the laundry. Jackson and the others should be coming out after clearing first.”

The others spilled out, taking their masks off and breathing fresh air. They turned back to the building, Allison and Corey coming out at the same time. The anticipation of seeing Scott, Derek, and Boyd spill out of those doors grew greater by the second. It was hard to know that they were all in there, trying to save people selflessly. 

A loud crash echoed out from the building. Without thinking, Jackson slipped his mask on and ran back in, moving deftly into the building. He was always the fastest, the best at that. 

“Mayday. Scott fell through the first floor. A beam hit his shoulder. ” Derek sounded more panicked than he normally did, his voice coming quickly over the radio. 

“Get him safe and pull out, Hale. Smoke’s turning black,” Parrish said, his eyes watching the smoke. “Danny, Liam, off the roof.”

The truck lowered Danny, leaving only the three men and the two victims inside. 

Stiles’ heart pounded at the thought of Scott in there, hurt, not being able to call out or move because he was pinned or stuck. No firefighter wanted to die in the line of duty, and they all knew about apartment fires. They knew how easy it was to not walk back out. 

Jackson and Boyd came out, guiding two young women who seemed fine outside of the coughing. They lead those two to one of the arriving ambulances, sending them out of Isaac and Stiles’ grasp. 

They waited impatiently as Derek and Scott were stuck inside. 

Finally, after so many long moments, Derek came out, dragging Scott behind him. His unconscious body was limp against Derek’s shoulder, his whole body pulling him as quickly as he could. Allison immediately moved to help, the two of them guiding Scott over to Stiles and Isaac. 

“Give him to Greenburg,” Stiles said, making the hard call. He knew that he couldn’t keep his emotions in check with his best friend on his gurney. “We’ll meet you at the hospital.” 

Isaac and Stiles loaded in the woman and her son, quickly driving off to the nearest hospital. They had their own responsibilites, and that came first. They didn’t need to worry about Scott in the hands of Greenburg, even if he was annoying. They needed to focus and ensure that they were in the right mindset to be helpful, rather than destructive. 

“He’ll be fine,” Isaac said. He sounded like he was saying it more for his own sake than Stiles’. 

***

Derek rushed into the hospital waiting room, eyes searching for Stiles. He knew he probably looked desperate, but he felt desperate. He felt desperate enough to show how he was feeling. 

When he saw Stiles slumped over in the seat, he strided quickly over, completely ignoring the rest of squad behind him. Stiles looked up, and immediately stood. The two of them fell into an embrace, Stiles wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck and burying his face in his shoulder. They clung to each other like it was the only thing that they could possibly do, like it would be painful to be separated. 

“What if— Der— what if something’s really wrong,” Stiles sobbed, breaking down in Derek’s arms. 

“I’m here for you,” Derek whispered, his arms tightening around stiles’ middle. He wanted to be everything that Stiles needed from him. He argued with Scott, but that didn’t mean he wanted anything bad to happen to him. They were crewmates, and he was Stiles’ best friend. He cared because Stiles cared, and Stiles never cared about anyone unless they meant something special. 

“Don’t let go,” Stiles whispered. “I feel like I’m falling apart.”

“I’ll keep you together,” Derek whispered back, his hands sliding along Stiles’ back. He wanted to untuck his shirt, to slide his hands along bare skin and provide some sort of comfort to him. He couldn’t, keeping his hands moving in smooth circles around his back. 

Whenever one of them was in the hospital, which was rare, it always felt like a million years spent in that waiting room. They didn’t ever leave one of their own unless they had to. Even Jackson cancelled on Lydia, the two of them sharing takeout on the floor instead of going out to some Michelin star restaurant. 

Derek had to let go of Stiles eventually, even if it was reluctant. They sat side by side in one of the bench chairs, their bodies pressed together from hip to shoulder. Derek had his arm wrapped possessively around Stiles’ shoulder, his fingers fiddling with the rolled up sleeve of his uniform shirt. He didn’t care how obvious he was being, only that he wanted to be as close to Stiles as possible. When he was hurting, when either of them were hurting, he wanted to be close to Stiles. They were each other’s comfort. 

A doctor eventually came out to greet them, lips pressed tight together. Allison stood first, her hands flying to her mouth. She had Lydia by her side, the two women clasping hands in solidarity. 

“We just finished surgery. He has a second degree burn on part of his shoulder, but whatever fell on him broke his ribs and punctured a lung. We managed to get that under control, and he should be fine now,” the doctor said, hands clasped together. “We can take you back to him, ma’am,” the doctor said to Allison, gesturing for her to follow him. 

The entire waiting room took a collective breath of relief. The guys who had families and lives started to depart, calling their wives to let them know the good news. A few of them stopped to pat Stiles on the knee, not saying much as they departed. 

“I don’t want to be alone,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “Stay with me?”

Derek wanted nothing more than to stay with Stiles. He wanted to be curled up in bed together, legs tangled together, breaths mingling as they talked about their lives. He wanted to comfort Stiles, to make sure that he was okay. He couldn’t imagine being separated at this point. 

“Of course.”

***

Stiles opened up his apartment, dropping his bag on the floor. He kicked off his shoes and slumped into the room, tugging at his shirt and stripping down as he walked back towards his bedroom. He could hear Derek following him, seeming more reluctant about this display than Stiles was. 

When they were at the doorway to Stiles’ bedroom, Stiles shirtless with his pants half undone, he turned back towards Derek. He had his shirt off but nothing else, standing there with his brow furrowed. “I don’t think I can dance around this any longer,” Stiles said, gesturing between the two of them. “Life is too short to pretend I don’t want to do this.”

Stiles leaned forward, closing the distance between them. He let his lips hover over Derek’s, silently asking permission, before he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Derek’s lips. 

When he didn’t get kissed back right away, Stiles pulled back, unsure if that was the right decision. Before he could make excuses, Derek was pressing back in, kissing him with a passion that Stiles didn’t know he had. They kissed like they were starving for each other, the two of them backing into Stiles’ room. Their lips met ferociously, Derek biting at Stiles’ lips and his hands digging into Stiles’ hips. In one smooth move, Derek tugged down Stiles’ pants, his hands moving immediately to grope at his ass. 

“Der,” Stiles moaned, breaking away to try and get at Derek’s pants. Instead of pulling away, Derek leaned down and started sucking on his neck, not letting his mouth leave his skin. “Get these off. Now,” Stiles commanded, his hands fiddling with the button desperately. 

Derek tugged his own pants off, stepping out of them to be completely naked. Stiles kicked his own pants aside, hands reaching up to cup Derek’s perfect face. “Fuck me,” Stiles said, pulling Derek on top of him as he leaned back into the bed. 

The two of them met passionately again. With the way that Derek was desperately grabbing his hips and ass, Stiles knew he was going to leave bruises. Stiles slid his hands into Derek’s hair, tugging at it gently. When Derek moaned into Stiles’ mouth, he knew that was the right move. 

Derek kissed down his body, lips pressing against firm skin and tongue lapping at the moles along the way. He took his time, fingers teasing at the tops of Stiles’ thighs. He dipped to bite at Stiles’ hipbones, hand bumping into the base of Stiles’ cock. 

Suddenly, in one swift moment, Derek took Stiles into his mouth, sucking on him hard. He lapped at the head of Stiles’ cock, grabbing the length with one hand. He pressed Stiles’ hips into the mattress when he tried to buck up, holding him down tightly as he worked over Stiles’ cock. 

Stiles tilted his head back in pleasure, knowing that he was so desperate for Derek, so turned on by this finally happening, that he was not going to last very long. “Derek,” Stiles moaned,  hands fisting the sheets. With one more pump of Derek’s hand, Stiles was cumming hard. He arched up as much as he could, feeling Derek licking him clean and swallowing. 

  “Fuck me,” Stiles moaned, making grabby hands at Derek. He clutched the hard muscles to him, feeling Derek’s hard cock trapped between them. “Let me take care of you,” Stiles moaned, reaching between them. He wrapped his legs around Derek’s back, grabbing his cock. He urged Derek to thrust into his hand, to rub against him and come against his stomach. After a few hurried thrusts, Derek was shooting onto his stomach, moaning and holding tight to Stiles. 

They laid next to each other, both panting. Their legs were tangled, their hearts beating in the same pattern, even if they couldn’t tell. Derek’s hand slid into Stiles’, their fingers intertwined as they lay, looking up at the ceiling. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” Stiles said, a smile breaking out over his face. “I really think I’m in love with you.”

Derek was quiet. Too quiet. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked, sitting up. He looked at Derek, eyes watching his face, wanting to read anything but the blank expression he had clearly schooled to deter him. 

“I think I have to go,” Derek said, standing quickly. He was out of the bedroom before Stiles could say anything, his clothes quickly gathered in his arms. 

He left Stiles there, his come drying on Stiles’ stomach, his sweat in his bed. He left Stiles with the memory of a perfect first time together, only to ruin it by walking out. He was an asshole.

Chapter Text

Derek smacked his own face as he walked out of Stiles’ apartment, too chicken shit to walk back. He was not ready for that, for any sort of love declaration. He felt the same, he knew he did, but he was not ready to admit that to anyone. 

The last person he loved had stolen all his money from him. The one before had thought it was okay to smack him around. The one before that tried to steal his car. He was not relationship material, and he was known to have things go horribly wrong in relationships. He didn’t want to ruin things with Stiles by moving too quickly through the romantic aspect of their relationship. 

Part of him was waiting for shit to hit the fan, for Stiles to ruin his life like many of his relationships before. He was ready to be heartbroken. 

***

Stiles got out of bed, walking into his bathroom. He wiped his stomach clean, pushing back the tears that were welling in his eyes. When he looked up at himself in the mirror, it was a hard sight to see. His hair was messed up, pushed out of its normal style and fluffy. His neck had a bit of beard burn on it from where Derek had licked and kissed at it, and he could almost see where his hips were going to bruise. 

He was so stupid for thinking that Derek might reciprocate the feelings that he had. He had really believed it, too, that Derek felt even sort of the same. The longing looks, the time spent together, the meals shared. Even now, the bruising tightness of Derek’s hands and the desperation, it all felt like something that was inevitably going to happen. 

Now, it felt like the results of a car crash. 

He wanted to pick up his phone and call Scott, but Scott was in the hospital. He didn’t need any sort of pressure or stress when he had a punctured lung to heal. He wanted his bestfriend’s support, but he truly needed to support him first. Stiles could wait. 

He hopped in the shower with the hopes of washing everything off of him. 

Only one more shift until Derek had his day off, and then they could let the separation do them some good. He wouldn’t have to see Derek’s grumpy face at the firehouse, and he could have more than a day to process the fact that they guy he loved didn’t love him back. 

Fuck.

***

Before the next shift, Stiles dropped by the hospital with flowers and a big cinnamon roll for Scott. He dropped it on the bedside table, not wanting to disturb him where he was sleeping. It felt hard to walk away, but he knew that he had to sleep. He had Allison by his side. 

When he got to the firehouse, Stiles immediately went up to the bunks on the second floor to drop his bag. He hadn’t seen Derek yet, but he knew that there was little he could do if he saw him. He wanted to pretend like that night didn’t happen, like things were before he and Derek became friends. Even though that felt so far away.l 

“Inventory?” Isaac asked, knocking on the side of Stiles’ bunk. 

“Coming,” Stiles said, smoothing a hand over his hair. Isaac gave him a look, but he followed dutifully, staying quiet as they walked back out to the rig. He saw Derek, but he avoided eye contact, ducking his head and sticking close to Isaac. He wanted to be invisible, to not be seen by anyone. 

“Are you alright?” Isaac asked, grabbing the clipboard from the side of the truck. 

“Fine,” Stiles replied shortly, hopping in the rig to start inventory. 

After a few minutes of calling out and checking supplies, Isaac paused, setting the clipboard down. “Is there something I can do? I don’t want to pry, but you’re not acting like yourself,” Isaac said, looking up at Stiles. 

Stiles glanced out of the rig, seeing Derek and the other squad guys sitting around the outside table. Derek was sitting in the chair facing the rig, his eyes flicking up. They caught each other’s gaze for a moment before Stiles looked away, ducking back into the rig where he hoped Derek couldn’t see him. 

“Can we talk later? I don’t want to talk where others can hear,” Stiles said, shaking his head. 

Isaac twisted and looked over at the table. When he looked back at Stiles, it was as if he understood. “So it didn’t go well.”

“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head. He pressed his lips together, trying not to think about him leaving, about Derek at all. 

“Ambulance 49. Man in distress.”

“We can avoid him for a little while now,” Isaac said, hanging the clipboard back up. “Fuck him.”

Stiles smiled as he hopped out of the rig, rounding to his side. “Thanks. But I already did that, and look how that turned out.”

***

Jackson sat down, handing Derek a mug of coffee. “Thought Stilinski would be by to bother you by now. Is he doing okay? Because of Scott,” Jackson said, leaning back in his chair. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Derek said shortly, ignoring the coffee. He looked away from the guys, to where the rig had just left. He had so much he wanted to say, but when he thought about talking to Stiles, all the words got stuck in his throat. 

“You wouldn’t know? You two are attached at the hip,” Jackson said, pushing gently at Derek’s shoulder. 

“Haven’t talked to him,” Derek said truthfully, wanting the entire conversation to end. Quickly. 

“Really?” Boyd asked, pulling out a newspaper. 

He could feel the eyes of all the squad members on him, watching him. 

“Really.” Derek stood up quickly, his chair scraping roughly against the cement. He walked away quickly, hands tense at his sides. He wanted to punch something, to punch himself, to knock some sense into his brain. 

It hurt him to know that he hurt Stiles. That he probably fucked up the one good thing in his life in a long time. He wasn’t the most open person emotionally, and he had just started to feel his walls breaking down, thanks to Stiles. Now, because he was a coward and he knew that it would go to shit eventually, he ruined it before it even started. He was fucking things up, and he didn’t even want to be. 

When he got back to his bunk, he slammed the door closed, hands coming up to grip his hair. He closed the blinds, making sure that no one could see in. He let himself fall back onto his bed, hands covering his face. He knew he had to make things right, but he had no idea how. 

***

When Isaac and Stiles got back to the house, the squad table had one absent seat. It was almost a relief to not walk by him, to not have Derek’s eyes on him as he moved. 

Jackson got up, following the two of them inside. “Why is Derek acting like a total dick again? Thought you had fixed that, Stilinski.” 

“Not the time, Jackson,” Isaac said, pushing at him. He glared at Jackson, his eyebrows moving as if trying to convey that there was more to the story. 

“Are you two going to bother me until you get the whole story?” Stiles asked, stopping suddenly. 

The two of them didn’t say anything, but Stiles knew that was the truth. They were far too worried about him, and probably about Derek if he was acting off. People were going to know something was up when Stiles didn’t spend his time with Derek. They were always together. 

“Follow me,” Stiles said, leading them back to the laundry room. 

It was sort of a house rule that if the laundry room door was shut, it was occupied. No one liked walking in on things they didn’t want to see, or hearing things they didn’t want to hear. It was the purest form of privacy that they had. 

Stiles swung the laundry room door shut behind them, leaning against it. 

“Didn’t know you were into me like that, Stilinksi, but I can’t say no,” Jackson said, reaching as if to take off his shirt. 

Both Isaac and Stiles reached to stop him. “While a super hot gay threesome is definitely in all of our interests, I think we have a more emotional based problem to deal with,” Isaac said, gesturing towards Stiles. 

He told them about the two of them, about going back to Stiles’ place. He didn’t give details, even though they would have appreciated them. He mentioned what he said, and what Derek did in response. He closed his eyes tight after explaining, knowing that he might not like their responses. 

“He’s a dick,” Jackson said, reaching over to grab Stiles’ shoulder. “He’s a dick, and you have every right to be mad at him.”

“What?” Stiles said in surprise. 

“In your most vulnerable moment, he decides to leave you? Not even talk it out? Or say anything?” Isaac said, shaking his head. He made a face in frustration, his nose scrunching up. “I wanna kick his ass, Stiles.”

Jackson pulled him into a hug, holding him tight to his chest. “I don’t get it. I thought you two were meant to be. Stilinksi and Hale, the hottest couple in the house. He’s emotionally constipated, but that’s just fucking rude.” 

Being supported by Jackson and Isaac, two of the guys he did not get along with at first, was so strange to Stiles. It showed how much they meant to each other, how much they all cared, that they were comforting him in his time of need instead of letting him hang out to dry in front of Derek. Jackson was even bad mouthing his superior, which was not necessarily something that was promoted in house. 

“ Ambulance 49. Truck 51. Squad 5. MVA on Burnside bridge. Need water assist.”

“I’m making Derek go in the freezing ass water today,” Jackson said, pulling back from Stiles. He ruffled his hair, making it unstick from its gelled shape. “If he tries to say anything, I’ll kick his ass. I’m going to talk some sense into that dense motherfucker.”

They all left the laundry room, trailing down the hall. With these two at his side, he felt significantly better. 

***

“Hale’s got water rescue,” Jackson said, hopping in the truck. 

“I’m the lieutenant, I call who does what,” Derek growled, shaking his head. He was letting his bad mood get to him. He was battling his own brain. 

“Figured we’d let the ice queen in the water,” Jackson said under his breath, grabbing out his wetsuit. 

His words weren’t audible to anyone but Derek, which was a good thing. Derek did not want to have to make an example out of Jackson, not when he hated doing that. But the comment likely had to do with the fact that Jackson, Isaac, and Stiles came out of the laundry together. Derek knew people went in there to either hook up or gossip. 

If they were in there together, it was likely that Stiles told them about that night. 

Jackson and Stiles, despite hating each other, had the same snarky attitude that eventually brought them together. Almost the same thing happened with Isaac. The three of them would be unstoppable if they were together more frequently. Which was why Derek was now more worried than before. 

He noticed Stiles ignoring him and purposefully avoiding him. Not that he felt like dealing with such an emotional conversation during shift, but he knew that it affected everyone else. There was no way it didn’t. The others sort of knew what was going on, and the inevitability of them coming together. They probably did not anticipate them bouncing apart. Which was Derek’s fault entirely. 

***

“Wanna stop and grab dinner?” Isaac said on their way back from dropping the MVA patient. 

“I thought one of the guys was cooking for us tonight,” Stiles said, kicking his feet up on the dash. 

“Nah. Thought we could go out, the two of us. My treat. You need it,” Isaac said, taking them en route to a burger place. It was Stiles’ favorite place, which meant that Isaac was really feeling bad for him. 

“You don’t have to pity me, you know. I can survive a broken heart,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “Even if I have to work with Derek and pretend like nothing’s wrong.”

“But everything is wrong. And don’t you dare try and transfer houses without me, because I really do not want to find someone new to work with. We just got comfortable with each other,” Isaac said, reaching over to elbow Stiles. 

“Switch houses?” Stiles asked, sort of dumbfounded. That thought hadn’t crossed his mind yet. He couldn’t imagine leaving Scott or the guys, not now. Not when everyone felt like family. 

“That’s what I’d do, if things with me and Danny turned south and nothing could be fixed. Or at least switch shifts,” Isaac said, shrugging. 

He liked house 51, but he could see himself switching if things couldn’t be solved. The thought of spending his time on shift without Derek, with the two of them not talking, was bad enough. If he changed, he could at least avoid Derek entirely and pretend like he didn’t exist. He could get over him faster. 

“If I change anything, you’ll be the first one I’ll tell,” Stiles said, punching Isaac’s shoulder. “You’re becoming a big softie around me,” Stiles said, smiling. 

“Okay, now you’re pushing it,” Isaac said, rolling his eyes. 

***

Isaac and Stiles came back with milkshakes, laughing like they were the only two people in the world. 

Derek had no reason to be jealous, with the way he was behaving, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his chest at the thought of Stiles sharing fries with someone else, or doing what they would normally do together. It felt like a breakup, and they weren’t even dating to begin with. 

“Finally regretting it?” Jackson asked, sitting down at the table next to Derek. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek grumbled. 

“If you don’t fix things, I’m going to have to kick your ass. Off shift, of course,” Jackson said, rapping his knuckles on the table. “You do not walk away from someone like Stilinski, even if he’s an annoying little shit.”

“I know,” Derek said quietly. 

“Then fucking fix it,” Jackson said, standing up and walking away. He joined Isaac and Stiles, leaning over to steal Stiles’ milkshake and wrap his arm around Stiles’ shoulders protectively. 

Apparently there were lines to be drawn, and Jackson made sure that he was on Stiles’ side. Which meant that half the house was already backing Stiles, even if they had no idea what all of this was about. 

But, the thing was, Derek did not want to reconcile half ass. Maybe he wasn’t ready to admit he loved Stiles, but he knew that it was going to take more than an apology and a sad face for them to make up anything. He had his day off next shift, and with that time away he was going to brainstorm, to figure out how the hell he was going to win Stiles Stilinski back.

Chapter Text

Stiles relished in his day at work without Derek. It was nice, to not have to hide himself away in his bunk, or pretend like nothing was wrong. Even though everyone continued to stare at him like something was wrong, there wasn’t the constant reminder that his very first love declaration (when he was not in a relationship) was shot down harshly. 

He sat between Jackson and Isaac at lunch, and went out on calls where he didn’t have to worry about anyone. The two people he worried about most weren’t in house; Scott was at home, and the other guy was halfway across the country, out of Stiles’ mind. It was a good thing. 

“Looking less bad today, Stilinski,” Jackson said, slapping his back. “We can go for drinks with Lyds tomorrow if you want,” Jackson added, ruffling his hair. 

“Nah, probably don’t want me crying over nothing. Let’s plan for some other time,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “Appreicate that you care so much, Jackson!” 

“As if,” Jackson scoffed. Even then, it was clear that he cared. 

***

“Can I talk to you?” Derek asked, first thing in the morning, their very next shift together. 

There was an uneasiness to them, to the way that they postured. They were both reluctant to stand too close, but at the same time it felt weird to be discussing matters so personal while standing so far apart. 

“Okay,” Stiles agreed, knowing that this was inevitable, and the mere fact that they would have to talk to each other was something completely unavoidable. 

Derek led them to the gear room, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He turned to look at Stiles, only when they had both completely entered, and knew that they were likely alone. 

“How’s Scott?” Derek asked, looking stiff, and away from Stiles. His jaw was clenched, his eyes darting everywhere but Stiles’ face. 

“Good. They released him yesterday, and he has about 6 weeks until he’s healed. He’s going to come in and assist Parrish, since he wants to take the tests to become captain. They’re bringing in Lieutenant Argent from the other squad, and even though it’s Allison’s dad, it should be fine. I think,” Stiles said, letting himself ramble. 

His nerves were getting the best of him, his feet shifting and his fingers fiddling with his belt. He knew he should be getting to the point, to figure out why Derek is such an asshole, or at least ask him if he was crazy all this time. He wanted to know if all those shared moments were really moments, or if they were the delusions of a madman. 

“Good,” Derek said, his voice quiet. 

“Did you have anything else to say?” Stiles asked. He meant to sound sassy, or impatient, but to his own ears, he sounded desperate. His voice cracked, the pure want not lost in translation. 

“I’m sorry. I apologize for walking out when I should have stayed,” Derek said, his eyes closing. He took a deep breath in before looking at Stiles, his eyes wide and desperate. “I want to make things better, to fix this, but it’s not that easy, not for me at least,” Derek continued, choosing his words carefully. 

“It won’t be easy for me either,” Stiles said, his voice quiet. 

“I have a lot of explaining to do, but I want to do that when we have time and privacy, and won’t get interrupted by a call,” Derek said, reaching out towards Stiles as if he still had any right to touch him. 

Stiles flinched back, knowing that he wasn’t ready for that, not until they had talked it through. “We can get breakfast in the morning, okay? But I can’t guarantee that I’ll be accepting of what you say,” Stiles said, pressing his lips together. 

“What does that mean?” Derek asked, his eyebrows immediately pulling into a frown. 

“I might change shifts. Or houses. I don’t know yet,” Stiles said, turning away. “Look, it’s not about you, but I really embarrassed myself, okay? I can’t just keep working alongside you if I have to process and get over you. I can’t.” 

“Who said you had to get over me?” Derek asked. 

Stiles spun, not expecting that answer. 

“ Ambulance 49. Truck 51. Squad 5. Battalion. Industrial fire at the corner of 1st and Washington. Potential building collapse near unhoused campers.” 

“We’re talking when we get back,” Derek said firmly, grabbing Stiles’ shoulder. He squeezed it tight before turning away, heading out of the gear room. 

***

Derek could barely concentrate on the way to the fire, the words that Stiles had said replaying in his mind. All he wanted was for Stiles to be happy, and for him to be the one that made Stiles happy. He wanted them to be everything for each other, like they were before. It was hard to imagine that they were anything but the close-knit pair, but there they were, separated more than ever. 

“Did your dog die or something, Hale?” Jackson asked, hitting Derek’s knee with his own. 

“Or something,” Derek muttered. 

Jackson’s eyes bore into him, as if he was reading his soul. He was far too perceptive of a person. It made it hard to express any emotions, or lack of, in front of him. 

“So you’re making up with Stilinski,” Jackson said, looking serious. 

“Trying,” Derek said, shaking his head. “Let’s focus on the fire first, and you can ream me later,” Derek said, turning to watch their truck approach the fire. 

When battalion was called in, it meant that the fire was serious enough to hurt. Derek tried not to think about Scott, lying at home injured from their last call. He was injured because he didn’t listen to directions, and he knew that. Scott always got hurt because of that. 

“Listen up,” Derek said to his squad, calling their attention. “Everyone listens to orders, and if Parrish gives the clear out, then stop searching and leave. We cannot risk ourselves like Scott did because we didn’t follow orders. Understood?”

His men all nodded, their eyes solemn and ready. They knew that this was serious, and they were prepared for an entirely serious and intense call. They would make it through this. 

When they pulled up, Stiles and Isaac were already there, standing to the side and watching the warehouse go up in flames. The flames were licking out of the windows, and it was clearly dangerous for the two of them to get any closer and investigate. The fact that anyone could be inside, alive, was surprising. 

“No one in sight,” Stiles said, shrugging. 

“Squad, search left, truck search right. Make it under three,” Parrish called out, gesturing towards the two groups. 

Derek slid his mask on, preparing to head into the flames. He spared one last glance at Stiles before he ducked into the building, trying not to worry about anything but searching. 

***

Stiles, despite being on rocky ground with Derek, still hated seeing him run into a burning building. He hated it every time, and even though he knew they were saving people, he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Derek would want to run into danger at every second. On top of that, Stiles knew that he was self-sacrificing, and that when he ran into a burning building, he always made sure he was the last out. For other’s safety. 

“Don’t worry,” Isaac said idly, watching Danny climb up the ladder to vent the roof, like he usually did. “You’ll get to talk to Derek again, even if you’re mad at him.”

“I know,” Stiles replied quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

So rarely did they have to wait very long for their own action, that Stiles and Isaac almost waited impatiently. They were not used to waiting for the guys to bring people to them, they were used to showing the guys who to save. It was hard to imagine that anyone could be in the flames, but if a call was made for them to be there, they had to do their job. 

“ Right side clear, sir. We’re heading back down the middle, ” Liam said over the radio. 

“ There’s a man trapped under a fallen storage rack. Hale and Boyd have him, the rest of us are searching left,” Jackson said, his voice crackly over the radio. 

There was heavy silence for a few moments until truck came out of the door, all of them pulling their masks off quickly. They had ash on their jackets, their boots scuffed with it. 

“Hale, Boyd, one minute,” Parrish radioed. He tried to be neutral, but Stiles could see the pinch in his forehead. With Scott out, he could not afford to lose another man. While safety was always a priority, it was even higher of a priority now that they had a fresh reminder of the danger. 

“ Left clear. I’m going back to help Hale and Boyd. Rest of Squad is headed out, ” Jackson radioed, his radio crackling heavily. 

Stiles fretted at his fingers, not liking that they were still in there. It meant that whatever fell on the guy would be heavy, and potentially damaging. 

“Let’s be prepared for crush syndrome,” Stiles said, leaning into Isaac, the two of them standing with their arms crossed. 

The building groaned as two of squad came out of the doors, pulling their masks off. They looked behind them, as if expecting the others to come out of the door. There was a loud crash from inside, and Stiles’ heart dropped into his gut. He couldn’t help but think of Scott, of how he was lying at home, resting his punctured lung. He couldn’t help but think of all the other firefighters before this generation of squad, the ones that got injured on the job. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” Stiles muttered under his breath, tapping his foot nervously. 

“A beam swung down and caught Hale on the shoulder. We’re pulling him out. Other man DOA ,” Jackson called over the radio. 

“No,” Stiles said, leaning fully into Isaac. He loved Derek, he really loved Derek, and even if they never had the same feelings, he could still feel his heart cracking at the thought of him hurt or injured in any way. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, waiting for him to stumble out of the building and be safe again, safe away from the fire. 

Isaac’s hand dropped onto his shoulder, knowing how hard it was emotionally for him. It was the years they had spent being close together combined with the potential that they carried between them. It was the way that things were unresolved, and not knowing was worse than knowing at all. 

Jackson stumbled out first, the DOA man on his shoulders. He carried him over to the gurney and dropped him down, helping Isaac pull a sheet over him. 

Boyd came out second, Derek hanging off of him, barely stumbling alongside him. The smoke above the building started turning black, the sounds of the building collapsing even louder now that engine had started to put the flames out. 

The other squad guys rushed to grab Derek, half carrying him over to the ambulance. Stiles stood on shaky legs, quickly radioing for a pickup for the other man. He was holding his breath, he knew he was, but it wasn’t until Derek was sat on the edge of the ambulance that Stiles let himself breathe, let himself take a look. 

“You fucking idiot,” Stiles said under his breath, pulling off of Derek’s mask. His eyes were bloodshot, but he was coherent, looking up at Stiles. “Fucking martyr,” Stiles added, feelign around his skull to insure that nothing was split open or bleeding. 

“My— shoulder,” Derek grunted, wincing as he tried to turn. 

Stiles rounded him to the other side, seeing that whatever was on fire burned through his jacket, burning him underneath. It wasn’t that bad, only second degree burns, but they had to be painful now that he had started moving around. Stiles touched the edges with gloved hands, carefully prodding to make sure that the burns were all that was wrong. 

“Can you please stay safe for one call? You promised me we would talk,” Stiles said, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. 

“Is he alright?” Jackson asked, coming up behind Stiles. “He was trapped underneath a burning beam for almost thirty seconds before Boyd and I could lift it off of him,” Jackson explained, wincing at the burn marks on Derek’s shoulder. 

“Fine, we’re going to take him to the hospital,” Stiles said, pressing his lips together. 

Jackson backed off, patting Stiles on the shoulder. 

They loaded Derek up on a different gurney as the other ambulance arrived for the DOA. He was strapped in, with Stiles following him into the back for the ride. They got moving quickly, not wanting to waste a minute in case there was anything else Stiles was missing. 

“Stiles,” Derek said hoarsely, his eyes wide. 

“We don’t have to talk right now,” Stiles said, trying to focus on taking his vitals and making sure he wasn’t going into shock. 

“No, Stiles,” Derek said, grabbing his hand. 

They locked eyes, and it was like everything that had gone wrong was melting away, like they were just Stiles and Derek again, like they were before. Sharing bags of chips, sitting shoulder to shoulder, always saving each other a portion of dinner in case the other missed it. 

“I love you, Stiles. I really think I love you,” Derek said, his forehead tight. 

It was as if all the air was sucked out of the rig. 

“You’re just saying that because you almost died,” Stiles said quietly, not sure if he should believe it. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that looking into Derek’s eyes was hypnotic, and that he would be believing whatever he said no matter what. 

“No, Stiles, I wanted to say it back, that night. I’m just not good at relationships, and I didn’t want to hurt you, but I did. But then I realized that I didn’t want to die without telling you how I felt, and I had to— Stiles— I can’t be without you—” Derek said, starting to stutter at the end, losing his words. 

Stiles cut him off with a quick kiss to his lips, pressing just long enough that Derek had stopped talking. 

“Don’t think almost dying gets you out of talking about this,” Stiles said sternly, trying to suppress the smile at the edge of his lips. “And I love you too, you big fucking idiot.”

Derek slid his hand into Stiles’, their fingers tangling together. It felt right, it felt good, even though they had a lot more to talk about. It felt like they were them again. 

***

That next morning, after he had finished the rest of a gruelling shift, Stiles went back to the hospital to see Derek. He walked through the hallways, not even having changed out of uniform, and headed back to where he knew Derek was being kept in the burn unit. His burns weren’t bad, but they were a large enough surface area to watch for a bit, and Stiles was not going to let him spend that time alone. 

“Hey,” Stiles said, coming into the room. He had waffles from a diner, knowing that it might not be what Derek wanted, but it was what Stiles wanted, and they were going to share. 

“Hey,” Derek said, his head tilted back against his pillow. Some morning cartoons were on the tv, but they were really idle background noise. 

“How are you feeling?” Stiles asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. He pushed at Derek’s legs, giving himself more room as he pulled the tray between them, pulling out the togo container of waffles. 

“Like shit. My shoulder hurts, but they won’t give me anything except small amounts of morphine,” Derek said, shaking his head. “I want to rip my whole arm off,” he added, closing his eyes. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’ll talk to the nurses. I’m sure they can bump your morphine for such a good attitude and pretty face like yours,” Stiles said, patting Derek’s leg. 

“But we kind of need to talk about how we’re both terrible at expressing our feelings,” Stiles said, making a face. He looked away from Derek, trying not to let his heart beat or Derek’s expressions overwhelm him. “I know that I was in the wrong for trying to confess in a post-coital glow, and I’m sorry for my poor timing and likely intimidating manner to which I confessed,” Stiles said, trying to repeat the same phrasing he had thought of on the way over. 

“I shouldn’t have walked out. I’m sorry for confessing in the back of your rig,” Derek said, reaching out to take Stiles’ hand. 

The apology was good, but it still felt like they were not quite back on solid ground. Stiles wanted to have the annoyed, grumpy, only-ever-happy-to-see-Stiles version of Derek back. The one that felt like he could love, and be loved. 

“What the hell is up with you thinking you’re unworthy?” Stiles asked, shaking his head. “Thinking you’re going to hurt me because you’re such a bad guy? Have you even met yourself?”

Derek made a face, looking down and away. “I know. I should have explained myself.”

“Just communicate with me. If you’ve had shitty relationships, let me take the lead. I’m friends with all of my exes, even if it took us a while to get there,” Stiles said, squeezing Derek’s hand. He wanted to say so much more, to figure out every part of Derek, but he knew that he had more time for that. If Derek was allowing him to stay, then he had plenty more time to figure out the enigma of Derek Hale. 

They stayed silent for a moment, the beeping of the heart monitor the only noise in the room. It wasn’t the most comfortable of silences, but it was theirs. Derek seemed nervous enough, fidgeting with the corner of the table and making the pinched expression he always had when he wasn’t sure how to act. Stiles didn’t particularly feel that bad making him feel uncomfortable considering what he put him through. A few seconds of uncomfortableness would have to make up for walking out for no good reason. 

“Now, can we eat these waffles? I had a stressful shift, and I was not about to let them go cold because you want to explain all of your feelings at once,” Stiles said, opening the tray. 

“Are you why squad came in last night, instead of this morning?” Derek asked, grabbing one of the plastic forks. 

“What was I supposed to do? Let them linger outside the door while we had a deeply emotional conversation? They knew you were fine,” Stiles said, heartily pouring syrup over both waffles. 

They ate in silence for a few moments before Stiles started giggling to himself. “Parrish is pissed, you know,” Stiles said, laughing. “He got mad at me, as if it were my fault that both of his lieutenants were injured within a week of each other. He had to put Jackson in charge of squad, which does wonders for his ego,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. 

“I’ll be back before he knows it,” Derek grumbled, making a face. “He’s going to be annoying as hell.”

“I think we’re going to put him on dinner duty, just because. Take him down a few pegs,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “It’s going to be weird without you and Scott at the firehouse.”

“I’ll be back before you know it. We can make good use of the laundry room,” Derek said, nudging his knee against Stiles. 

“And leave your perfectly good lieutenant bunk empty? I don’t think so,” Stiles said, smiling cheekily. 

***

Derek was released later that day, and he was extremely glad to be riding home in Stiles’ car, his shoulder aching but a smile creeping onto his face when he thought about Stiles, when he thought about them. 

He was so bad at expressing his feelings, at making it known how he felt in a decisive and good manner, and yet Stiles was willing to work with him. He knew he had a lot he needed to learn, but he was glad to take what Stiles was giving him. And he heartily would take whatever was given, because he knew to be grateful for being loved by someone like Stiles. 

Stiles loved with his whole heart. Derek had witnessed this on many occasions, whether or not it was with Scott, Isaac, even Allison and Jackson. There was no halfway with Stiles, and he couldn’t wait to feel the warmth of his open love. 

“Want me to stay?” Stiles asked when they pulled up to Derek’s apartment, his hands tight on the steering wheel. 

How was Derek supposed to say he wanted Stiles to stay forever? Even when his heart felt like it was betraying him, like it was feeling things too strongly or too quickly, he still wanted to spend all of his time with Stiles. It was hard to come across people that he felt like were family, or that knew him as him, and Stiles was the first person who he had felt was completely and fully understanding of him. 

“If you want to,” Derek said, not wanting to sound as desperate as he felt. 

“I want to. I want to make up for the past few days,” Stiles said, reaching over to grab Derek’s hand. “I want us to be as solid as possible, and if you want to hang out, then I’m going to hang out.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Maybe we’re over communicating.”

“No such thing,” Stiles said, jabbing at his arm. “I’m just trying to be clear and succinct.”

“Succinct my ass,” Derek muttered under his breath playfully. 

“Whatever, loser,” Stiles said, parking his car. 

They went inside, Stiles carrying Derek’s bag since his shoulder was torn up. “Did you grab the ointment from the car?” Stiles asked, shouldering the duffel bag. 

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek said, leaning into Stiles’ space. “I know I’m hurt, but that doesn’t mean you have to baby me. I think I’ll be okay.”

“In the future, when I inevitably hurt myself in the line of duty, and you want to coddle me, I’m going to remember this moment and say I told you so,” Stiles said, opening up Derek’s door. 

“For what?” Derek asked, pushing past Stiles inside. 

“For the fact that its natural instinct to coddle someone who almost died!” Stiles said, dropping his bag. “I was going to make you dinner, but I guess that’s babying you too much?”

“I want dinner,” Derek replied quickly. He knew how good of a cook Stiles was, and he wasn’t going to pass on a home cooked meal. He had plenty of cooked meals in  the firehouse, but rarely a homecooked meal at his own apartment. 

“Oh, I want dinner,” Stiles mocked. He leaned in and pecked Derek on the lips, smoothing his hand over Derek’s cheek. “It’s a good thing I like you. Some might say I love you.” 

“Shut up,” Derek said playfully, walking towards his couch. He lowered himself onto it, wincing as his shoulder skin pulled weird. “Did you take all of my pain meds from me?”

“Grabbed them in case you wanted to start a pill addiction,” Stiles said, poking his head around the corner. “Why, need some extra?”

“Yeah, but I might fall asleep if I take it,” Derek said, making a face. 

“Fall asleep. There’ll be food for when you wake up,” Stiles said, offering the pill bottle to Derek. 

As predicted, shortly after taking the medication, he felt himself slipping off to sleep. He let himself hear the noises of Stiles cooking, and the feeling of home washing around him. He didn’t know why he thought walking away from Stiles was a good idea, but he was glad he was allowed to walk back. 

***

“You know, this firehouse is now our fire-home,” Stiles said, smirking at his own cheesy joke. 

Derek groaned, his head tilting back in the seat. “I cannot believe you just said that. Why do I like you again?” Derek asked, shaking his head. 

“For my wonderful humor of course,” Stiles said, turning off the engine of his car. 

They sat together, looking at the firehouse that had brought them together in the first place. It always felt so fitting for them, and walking into it as a couple was going to be a strange thing. It was not like anything was going to change for their behaviors; they were still going to eat lunch together and sit side by side when they could, and avoid all others to whisper about their own problems. The fact that they had gotten away with that behavior in the past and weren’t dating was surprising. 

“Are you sure you want to come into work today?” Stiles asked, hands on the steering wheel. 

“I have to pick up some stuff from my locker, and I already know that I need to help Parrish with some paperwork. I’ll be fine,” Derek said, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“They’re gonna know,” Stiles said, giving Derek a significant look. 

Not that he wanted to hide their relationship, or pretend like it wasn’t happening. He wanted to keep things between them, and not have the gossip of the firehouse coming between their relationship. Especially when they were them, and the house was like they were. They barely let them live when they were dancing around each other, and Stiles could not imagine how much worse it was about to get. 

“No one’s gonna know,” Derek said, trying to be reassuring. 

“They’re gonna know,” Stiles repeated, pressing his lips tight together. “Time to face the music, I guess.”

They walked up together, a foot of distance between them. They barely spoke as they approached, some of the guys cleaning the truck out front. As they approached, it took only a few seconds before Danny stood up, shouting to the others. 

“They’re together now!” Danny called out, sounding almost proud of this. 

“I fucking told you so,” Stiles said.

***