Derek wasn’t sure if he wanted to crush the machine or hug it, the incessant noise caused his teeth to grind against each other, but those little sounds also meant Stiles was still alive. Those beeps drowned out the hiss and whine of the ventilator, forcing air in and out of lungs that could no longer function on their own.
He didn’t want to think about how this happened. It was a plyean gone mad, nothing they hadn’t faced before. On the danger scale it didn’t even rate four out of ten. Stiles had been back with the rest of the cars, presumably out of danger, just setting up a quick magical barrier to keep the insane man contained
.Everything had gone so wrong so fast, now Stiles had lost nearly a liter of blood and Melissa looked grim every time she walked in to check the young man’s vitals.
“We came as soon as we hard,” Malia panted, Scott just behind her.
“You were supposed to be there,” Derek growled over his steepled hands.
“This was supposed to not be dangerous,” Scott protested.
“Well it was and I want to know what was more important than backing your pack members up,” Derek growled, he could feel his blood boiling. The logical part of his brain knew he was reacting emotionally, knew that there was no way to tell what was going to happen a few hours ago, but all he could think about was the body that looked to small on the bed next to him.
“Derek,” Malia said quietly, trying to calm her cousin. Derek shook her arm off his own. “Derek, please.”
“You have to bite him Scott,” Derek pleaded.
“Stiles doesn’t want it,” Scott protested.
“Your mom dropped his survival chances below 30% just now,” Derek said, nodding to the hallway. Melissa was talking to The Sheriff, who had just arrived, the man looked like he’d been gut punched.
Scott looked like that too, but set his jaw. “Stiles doesn’t want it.”
Derek growled and stalked out of the room towards the two other adults. “Melissa,” he said, voice almost too even. “Keep him alive, whatever it costs, give me three days.”
“Derek,” The Sheriff started.
“Keep him alive,” Derek ordered as he walked out of the hospital.
He was back fourteen hours before his three day deadline, Scott and Malia could pick up the faint smell of blood but none of the humans could. Melissa had used every rule in the book to delay Stiles being taken off life support despite no improvement. “Derek?” She asked.
“I’m going to try and save him,” Derek said, resting a hand on the Sheriff’s shoulder, his eyes burning crimson, “If this doesn’t work…”
“You’ll have tried,” John responded with tearful eyes, “There’s nothing else to be done…he isn’t getting any better…”
“Scott didn’t…?” Derek started.
John shook his head, “Said he and Stiles had talked about it, a lot, and that Stiles kept saying he didn’t want it. Still, knowing him, even if he hates us both, he’ll be alive to do it. I can’t loose him Derek, I just can’t, he’s all I have left. Please, try.”
“I also have this,” Derek said, holding up a syringe. “In case it doesn’t work.”
“That’s a mercy,” John assured. “But it’s going to work.” Derek nodded and closed the door behind them. He approached Stiles and gently turned the hospital gown down from one shoulder. He looked back up at The Sheriff one last time for an affirmative nod, once given he sank his teeth into the muscle just below the artery. It would take infected blood through Stiles the quickest, hopefully heal him faster.
“Here…let me,” Melissa said, shuffling Derek to one side. She quickly disinfected and cleaned the bite.
“We have to leave it open,” The Sheriff said, “At least for a few minutes, to look for signs of rejection.” Melissa nodded and they waited five minutes before bandaging it. Then another twenty pacing the room.
“How long till we know if it’s worked?” Melissa asked, taping off the last of the bandage.
“I’ve never tried it on someone this injured before,” Derek shrugged. They waited another hour before the ventilator started to make abnormal hisses and whines.
“It’s a good thing,” Melissa assured, silencing one of the alarms, “It means he’s fighting it, starting to breathe on his own.” The respirator was replaced with a mask, and then a nasal cannula. Less medication was pushed through his system, then the doctor proclaimed it a medical miracle and stopped medication all together. Four and a half hours after Derek bit Stiles the young man opened his eyes.
“Dad?” He coughed.
“I’m here,” John said, tears leaking out of his eyes as he sobbed with relief, “I’m right here.”
“Feel weird,” Stiles replied, voice raspy.
“You’ve been asleep for a while,” Derek supplied, his alpha compelling him to stay near his newest beta. He promised himself he wouldn’t mess it up this time, that he would do right by Stiles as his alpha.
“Why is everything loud?” Stiles asked.
“You wer…you weren’t going to make it,” John sobbed, clutching his son’s warm hand. “Derek, he handled it.”
“Handled…?” Stiles started to asked before he felt the twinge in his shoulder. “You bit me, but you’re not an alpha anymore?”
Derek let his eyes seep red, “You’ve been out a few days. I found someone who didn’t deserve the power he had and took it from him.”
“I was that bad?” Stiles asked.
“We were waiting for you to die,” Derek confirmed.
“Where was Scott?” Stiles wondered.
“He, he said you didn’t want it,” John answered. “I’m sorry if you would have preferred…”
“No, Jesus,” Stiles protested, “I mean, I wasn’t going to get turned voluntarily but it’s better this than getting dead.” Both men exhaled. Derek reached out and ran a hand through Stiles’ hair, Stiles immediately went limp. “Why does that feel so good? Also I’m starving, can I get a cheeseburger or something?”
@sterekdrabbles A triple drabble about politician Derek and his campaign manager/husband, Stiles. Because you know what they say about love being a political act and all that. The prompt words for each part were as follows:- approval, snuggle, continuous (11/5/18); lick, visible, bleed (12/2/18); and fence, scramble, velvet (19/2/18).
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Kids, if you could just snuggle a little closer… that’s it,” the photographer coaxed, camera clicking away continuously.
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Derek asked Stiles out the corner of his mouth.
“Because the other candidate’s approval rating goes through the roof every time he releases photos of him with his wife and family,” was the pragmatic response, but Derek knew it ran deeper than that.
“Yeah, but – and I hate to say this – I’m not so sure seeing pictures of me and my same-sex partner and our kids will have the same positive impact on my numbers.”
*
Stiles licked his lips, emotion visibly bleeding across his face. “You’re right. It mightn’t. It might even damage them. Which would suck because I know you’re the best candidate. I know you’re the guy who’ll always fight for what’s right.
“But there are people out there who need to see there are other gay, bi, pan and whatever else people in the world. Living their lives. Being successful. Falling in love and living happily ever after. Getting married and having kids, if that’s what they want. These photos are for them. Whether they’re old enough to vote yet or not.”
*
Derek stared at his husband, everyone else (except their kids who were currently trying to scramble up Derek’s legs) forgotten. Which was why his face was soft, open, completely unguarded. A fact the photographer captured in a photo many would later say won Derek the election.
But Derek didn’t know that then, lost in the velvety softness of Stiles’ lips as they kissed.
“Never on the fence about anything, are you?” he teased.
“Not about what’s important,” Stiles replied.
Derek smiled. He might be the right man for the job, but Stiles would always be the right man for him.
For those of you who don’t know, I am currently in the process of organizing my fanfic library on calibre. Here’s a cover for one of my favorite fics by the incredible @anchorsandadderall
Derek and Stiles don’t have the best track record of tracking down their wayward pack members. Stiles just hopes that maybe practice makes perfect because the tip they got on Isaac was dicey at best, but they’re still getting on the plane to Paris.
theproblemwithstardust 