Changing Patterns

• 9.5 •

"Talking" 'Thinking...
Important
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As stiles pulled up his shirt I quickly turned away, busying myself with the items on the bed. His body, upper body at least was pale, or fair, once again surprising me. Stiles's body was toned, not muscular, but his muscles are visible. And his arms are also a surprise, if he'd flex then I could call him muscular. Stiles tossed aside his shirt, with a little more effort then I thought he would. I let my hands travel to his chest, under the guise of his wounds.

I felt over the bruise, examining best I could for anything internally wounded. Though this one was before the werewolf attack, I tucked away a growl. Oddly, I'd grown to respect stiles, of course he's my anchor, and he's always the smart, responsible, and reliable one of the pack, but more then that. I respect stiles like I would another wolf, like I do my sister, and I did with Laura. Stiles I know I respect and should, and he's pack, so I care about him. Never in my life will I verbally announce that to anyone.

    "Can you take off the wrap?" after asking a grabbed the ointment and bandages. "Here."

With a sigh I start to spread the ointment Malissa had given him. She'd provided him with a minimum supply- my guess, a way for her to force a check up when he has to get back for more. I finished with the ribs bruise and moved onto the one on his hip, I'd seen part of it earlier, not sure how large it is though. Slowly, I'm worried he'll stop me, I rub the off white cream on his hip, pushing the pajama pants down a little as I do so. Then moving away once I think I've got most of it covered. I dip my fingers in the ointment again and move onto his arms. Finding the bruises easily and slowly getting more angry at the fact that on his arms, are two hand prints.

"Who did these?" My voice is quiet, smaller then I would have hopped. But stiles answers either way, so it works out.

"Just one of the wolves, I think they forget how strong they are sometimes." My throat burns at his nonchalant tone. I want to growl, which is weird, I shouldn't be responding so aggressively.

I toss aside the little plastic container and pull off the bandage on his arm, the smell of blood slowly filling my nose as I do so. I suppose this is the bleeding wound then. As soon as I pull off the pink to red bandage droplets of blood spill, I sigh and grab some gauze to catch it. Swiping it over the three bleeding puncture marks and quickly looking up st stiles when he winced. I find myself staring a little to long and look back to his arm.

"Derek," stiles starts with a gentle tone, one I hadn't held witness to when it came to talking to me. Normally sarcastic or angry or rude, this one is reserved for the pups, for Lydia, and Allison, like earlier.

"Hmm." I respond roughly and finish rubbing cream over the top of the bruise.

"Why are you here?" Vulnerable. That's the word I'd use for his tone. "Like... here?" My eyes catch on his free hand gesturing about his room.

"What are you talking about?" Does he mean with him. In this room?

"Helping me, I could do it on my own, why are you- shit!" Stiles cuts himself off with a curse, looking up and away from my face, i glance at him as he whispers another curse.

"Because I want to." I answer and surprise myself my pinching his side and making him look at me with wide eyes. One- I catch, has building tears in it.