The Limit Is Unlimited

First Aid

Among the yelling, the noise and the smoke Derek recognize the smell before the face appears in front of him. 

That scent of uneasiness, excited but kind of rather stay behind the lines. The scent of the kid who often standing behind his fury friend and yelling insult -which sounds irritating if it's directed at him, but weirdly funny if it's for some other guys-.

Actually it shocked Derek for a very tiny split second when he saw the exact kid coming from the warehouse door, wearing a dark jacket with FBI letters on it's chest.

"Stiles? Did he stole that one?"

Stiles waving his radio ht and their eyes finally met. After such a long time, somehow they feel relieved to recognize an old friend. Derek sigh, "Someone actually thinking straight not giving him a gun."

And right after that, something looks like kicking Stiles feet. And the next second he is rolling on the floor, holding his feet and screaming in pain. And after a very long time -4 years give or take-, Derek rolls his eyes, sigh. It feels like forever since the last time he have to witness some absurdity.

The chaos of the ambush in the warehouse isn't his problem anymore. He rolls and expertly slip to Stiles' side.

"What are you doing here, idiot?!" his greet is something Stiles already expected.

"Help! I'm dying!" the rolling kid desperately grab Derek's leather jacket.

And once again, Derek rolls his eyes. That's his second eye rolls after 4 years.

"Can you stand?"
"No! I think my feet crushed!"

Derek sigh. That's his third eye rolls after a clean 4 years straight.

He got no other choice, so he grab Stiles and pull him up, then casually carry him while he's wailing about dying.

When they finally out of warehouse, Derek look around to find some kind of EMT truck, but he didn't find any. So he carry the now fainted Stiles a little bit further to his hidden black camaro.

Somehow he managed to put Stiles in passenger's seat and put his seatbelt on.

The next minute, he's kicking his heel on the gas. Sliding furiously on the road to find either hospital or just a drug store and hate to admit that he's worry about Stiles.

When Derek finally find a little clinic, he pull Stiles out and bang the clinic's door. It's past midnight and he's ready do kick the door open if no one open the door. Luckly for them, seems like a doctor staying late and open the door for him.

"Help! His feet shot!"
"Which feet?" the doctor with tired and annoyed face asked because actually he doesn't want anything to do with midnight guests if not for Stiles' FBI jacket.

Equally annoyed, Derek look at Stiles' foot. He should be able to smell the blood, but it's faint he begin to feel stupid he doesn't realize it sooner.

The doctor sigh then pull up Stiles' pant sleeve that look torn.

Upon witnessing a scratch wound -it's bleed indeed, but it's already stop- Derek flipped and he slap Stiles' forehead.

"Get up!"
He totally forget how Stiles always exaggerate. So he grumbling sorry for the doctor and just walk out of the clinic, leaving Stiles who crying in pain, trying to get himself down the bed.

Not his fault Derek didn't ask and practically abduct him.