What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally the whole school knows
It’s more a reflex than anything else; the first time Stiles’ throws his arms around Derek and hugs him tightly. He’s just so relieved, so amazed. Part of him hadn’t dared hope Derek would be the one walking out of that building alive. Part of him had already forced himself to accept the fact that he would never see Derek again. That the few words they had exchanged earlier would be the last words ever said between them; the accidental brush of their arms remaining their last touch.
But then the door is ripped open and Derek is there; bleeding and scarred but alive. And Stiles forgets how to breathe as he leaps forward and runs to meet him. He wraps his arms firmly around Derek’s neck, when their bodies collide, burying his face in his shoulder. His heart is racing; the fear yet not defeated by the relief and realization that it’s all over. He just needs to hold Derek close; needs to feel him solid in his arms to make sure he’s really okay.
Then Derek circles his own arms around Stiles’ waist, hugging him tightly in return, and Stiles is unable to hold back the sob that’s been building up as a painful lump in his throat.
"It’s okay," Derek breathes right in his ear, and Stiles is pretty sure not even the werewolves around them managed to catch that.
"No. No, it’s not okay," Stiles whispers back, refusing to open his eyes because he knows tears will start streaming down his face. "I thought you were gone."
Derek tightens his grip around him, nuzzling the curve of Stiles’ neck.
"I’m here," he murmurs, and Stiles can feel his lips against his skin. "I’m not going anywhere."
And Stiles desperately wants to believe it’s true; wants to believe that with Deucalion and the rest of the pack gone he won’t have to fear for Derek’s life ever again. He’s not even sure when it happened, and maybe that’s what scares him the most; the fact that he’s come to care for this Alpha werewolf who always manage to sniff out trouble to the point where he lies awake at night worrying about his safety. It scares him because he can’t imagine what his life would be without Derek in it.
Derek’s torn shirt smells of smoke and Stiles can feel it enter his lungs as he inhales.
Somewhere in the distance there are people yelling over the sound of the Hale house once again being swallowed by flames, but it’s all a blur. Stiles keeps his eyes tightly shut, clinging to Derek and lets the rest of the world wait for a moment longer. Someone is calling his name, but he doesn’t respond.
Derek doesn’t let him go until the Sheriff reaches them and pulls Stiles into his own arms, but even then he remains close. Even if it’s all over and they seem to be safe, Derek still doesn’t leave his side all night.
do you ever realize that your followers aren’t just a number
they’re real people with jobs and pets and possibly an annoying neighbor
you have real people who like you
One of the first things they ask you in the ER is to rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10. I’ve been asked this question hundreds of times and I remember once, when I couldn’t catch my breath and I felt like my chest was on fire, the nurse asked me to rate the pain. Though I couldn’t speak, I held up 9 fingers. Later, when I started feeling better, the nurse came in and she called me a fighter. “You know how I know?” she said, “You called a 10 a 9.” But that wasn’t the truth.
I didn’t call it a 9 because I was brave. The reason I called it a 9 was because I was saving my 10…and this was it.