Red Riding Hoodie

s e v e n

January 16th 2014

Stiles' drove to Derek's loft, with Peter, Derek, and Scott all piled into his small blue jeep. Peter was making sure Derek was in his bed and checked to see if his wound was healing. When he took a look at it, the hole looked a lot worse then before and Derek looked pale, really pale.

This worried Peter, he remembered one of the teenagers mentioning a vet on the ride here, he ran out of Derek's loft searching the parking lot for the teenagers, as they were leaning against Stiles' blue jeep and arguing.

Peter caught his breath, and walked over to the teenagers, "What?" Stiles asks, annoyed that the older man - whom he didn't even know - was bothering them once again, while also trying to manage a small headache. "We may have a problem," Peter instructs as Stiles laugh rings through the air. "No buddy, he's just your problem. I don't even know the guy,"

Scott glared at Stiles, Stiles rolled his eyes turning to Peter and asking, "What'd you do?" Peter does a double take before starting to walk to Derek's loft again. "What makes you think I did it?" Scott and Stiles follow the older man, as Stiles snickered, "An assumption,"

---

Scott called Dean asking him if he knew anything about werewolf wounds not healing. Peter sat on the couch as Stiles sat beside Derek quietly. Stiles' eyes landed on Derek's deep wound.

"What happened?" He asked Peter, "Deucalion," Peter mumbled from the couch. "he's an insane idiot, who goes around killing innocent werewolf's." Stiles nods.

"Why him?" Stiles looks over to Peter, standing from the couch and walking over to Derek, crossing his arms over his chest. "He wants to kill his mate but he found him instead," Peter explains.

"Well why'd he attack me asking if there were more Alphas?" Scott voice calls from across the room, obviously done talking to Dean. "He probably assumed you were part of Deucalion's Alpha pack. He wouldn't of attacked you if- oh, that's never happened before." Peter looks at Stiles, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"What?" "Where were you when Scott was attacked?" Peter asks Stiles, his thoughts all over the place. "In my house, drunk off my ass, I guess." Stiles shrugs, looking over to Scott.

"Where were you?" Peter asks, riding his train of thought. "Right outside his house," Scott recalls, walking towards their little group circled around Derek.

"That's strange. I didn't know that was even possible," Peter taps his chin thoughtfully, walking over to the wall made of glass, looking out over the edge of the town. "Anyway, what did Dean have to say about Derek?" Peter's hands find their way to being laced behind his back, walking towards Scott.

---

Derek stirred in his sleep, his eyes knitted together in anger. He was awake and could smell his mate but he couldn't open his eyes. It was almost as if he was paralyzed. He couldn't curl his toes, twitch his nose, or open his eyes.

Derek would've never thought a simple task; like opening your eyes, would've ever annoyed him to the point of loosing his mind.

He tried opening his eyes again, his actions stopped when the scent of his mate got stronger and an unfamiliar voice spoke up. "Peter, I think there's something wrong with him. Why isn't he waking up?" A boys voice? Derek thought. He shook the voice off and focused on the other voices.

Peter. Scott. The unknown boy. "What exactly did Dean say after he gave him the medicine?" Derek's uncles voice could be heard from the couch.

"He said that Derek should be waking any second now," Scott answers, his eyes scanning Derek's face, looking for any sign of movement. Peter's frown is taken over by a smirk.

"Maybe he needs motivation," He walks over to Derek's unmoving body and raised his hand, Stiles' eyes widening. "What're you doing?" He asks frantically from across Derek's bed.

"Giving him motivation," Peter chuckles, his hand still raised. He lowers his hand but before he can reach he is shoved away from his nephew, by Stiles.

Stiles felt strangely attracted towards the unknown man, and he couldn't just sit there and watch him get slapped by his own uncle. "Ah," Peter smiles, standing and brushing his knees off. "So you're the one?" He asks.

Stiles exchanges looks between Scott and Peter, "What do you mean 'the one'?" He asks, confused, and starts to stand from the concrete floor. "Oh nothing. Scott, can I talk to you in private?" Peter motions towards the door of Derek's loft and Scott walks out the door along with Peter, leaving Derek and Stiles alone.

---

"Who the hell are you?" Stiles laughs, sitting in the chair beside Derek's bed. "I don't even know who you are, yet I'm sitting here thinking 'what happens if he doesn't wake up', its not like I even know you well enough to care about you like that."

Derek shifts in his bed, his eyes opening for a second and closing back again. Stiles turns around in his chair to tell the others but hesitates and sits back down in his chair, watching the older man.

"This is exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend," Stiles groans, standing from his chair and walking over to the couch across the room. He sits down, pulling his feet up and lays down, placing his arms behind his head.

"I hope your happy with yourself, Mr.. whatever your name is." He sighed. A few seconds later a voice rang through the small loft, "A little," Stiles shot up from his laying position and looked over to the bed Derek was laying in earlier to find he was sitting up straight, looking bored as ever.