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“You’re an idiot,” Stiles grumbles at him as she searches through the open drawer in front of her. “A complete and utter idiot.” Derek watches quietly, worrying his lip before he remembers that he split it open and that worrying it hurts. He resorts to clamping his fingers together and squeezing tightly.
This whole situation is making him feel off balance. He hates when Stiles is mad at him, so that explains the brewing ball of anxiety in his chest, but what explains the action that made Stiles so mad at him in the first place? That’s not Derek, he doesn’t get in fights. And that awful, awful feeling he got when he found out what happened. What was that?
“Stupid jocks, thinking they can hit whoever the fuck they want.” More muttering as she pulls the rest of the supplies out of the drawer and dumps them on the counter next to where Derek is currently sitting. “Getting angry over nothing.”
It’s not nothing, Derek thinks to himself. It wasn’t nothing.
“Hey honey!” A low whistle interrupts the conversation Derek is currently having with Stiles. They both turn to see some asshole sitting on the hood of a car behind them, grinning sleazily at Stiles.
“Look at me,” Stiles tells him, breaking Derek out of his reverie. He looks up to see Stiles is holding a cotton ball with some kind of liquid on it. She dabs at a cut on his cheek and he hisses. “It better hurt, ya jerk,” she shows no sympathy, but there’s worry in her eyes that just adds to the confusion Derek’s feeling.
“Can I help you?” Stiles asks, looking disinterested.
“You must be pretty good in bed, if you can bag a guy so clearly out of your league.” The sleaze ball says. Derek waits for Stiles to say something cutting back, knowing that she can fight her own battles, even if Derek wants to punch the lights out of this asshole. But when he looks over at his best friend in the world, her cheeks are pink and she looks like she just got punched in the gut.
“I hope this scars.” She tells him angrily, jabbing at another scrape on his jaw. Even though her movements are harsh, her touch is careful a soothing.
“Me too.” Derek says, trying to get her to look him in the eye. Stiles remains focused on his injuries. “So whenever you see it you’ll know how wrong that guy was.”
This dickwad actually hurt Stiles’ feelings, enough that she can’t verbally castrate him back. Derek looks over to the douche to see he’s grinning in triumph. That just won’t do.
Stiles pauses in her ministrations for only a moment before continuing.
“He wasn’t. Not really.” She says quietly as she moves to his lip, changing from a cotton ball to a Q-tip. “You are way out of my league.”
Derek frowns, pulling at his cut.
When Derek finally wakes up from the red haze of anger, his face vaguely hurts and he’s being pulled off the dickwad by Stiles, who is spewing profanities that might actually be reprimands at him.
“He’s wrong Stiles, he’s wrong.” He says earnestly, but he doesn’t think Stiles can hear him over her own words. In that second, he realizes how wrong the guy is. Stiles is definitely in his league, probably even above it. Stiles is amazing and funny and beautiful and what that dickwad said doesn’t change a thing.
In that second, Derek realizes he’s an idiot because he’s been in love with Stiles for years and didn’t even realize it.
“No you’re not. You’re amazing; I’m a grumpy, anti-social nerd.” Derek insists. Stiles scoffs, shaking her head at him.
“Whatever. Shut up and let me clean this.” She reaches to dab at his lip again but he pulls back.
“No!” He says louder than he intended, startling Stiles. “You are beautiful and funny and kind even when you don’t realize it. You are amazing, Stiles.” He looks straight into her eyes as he says it, making sure she knows how honest he’s being. Stiles stops for a moment, just staring back at him.
“You’re a good friend, Der.” Her eyes drift down to her hands so she doesn’t see Derek’s frown. That doesn’t sound right, not at all. Derek wants to be more than a friend; sadly it’s taken him this long to realize it. With his slightly less injured hand, Derek cups Stiles’ cheek, turning her face to look up at his, and leans in slowly so she can pull back at any time. When she just stares are him in disbelief, he pushes forward, letting his eyes close, and touches his lips to hers. It’s soft, he can’t push too hard with his split lip, but it’s enough that she knows how much she means to him. When he pulls back, her cheeks are flushed again, but this time a pretty pink color that Derek already loves.
“Was that okay?” Derek asks, because he’s a dork. Stiles snorts, rolling her eyes at him, and leans closer to him, squeezing his other hand in her own.
“You’re still an idiot.” She says, because she’s Stiles, and Derek grins brightly at her, uncaring of how it pulls at his cut. Stiles sighs, put upon, like this is all some great hindrance to her, as she slips her hands around his neck to link at the back. “But I guess you’re my idiot.”