The long awaited Derek reaction as promised in my story description! This chapter is a little bit shorter than the last one, but it's all Derek and Stiles, so hopefully that makes up for it. It turned out a little different than I expected, but hopefully everyone will like it!

I still own nothing.

When Stiles next came out of his hazy fog - decidedly less hazy than it had been, which was probably a good sign - he blinked blearily at the clock on the wall which read 3:47.

Preparing to settle back into a peaceful slumber, Stiles tilted his head to the side. He caught a glimpse of a giant hand on his injured shoulder.

He let out a sigh and allowed his eyes to slip closed.

Wait.

His eyes shot open and he sucked in a terrified breath to let out a scream.

Another monster-sized hand clapped down on his mouth, reducing his scream to a frightened squeak. Stiles continued to shout into the palm covering the bottom half of his face, doing his best to break free of the hold without tangling himself in the tubes and wires attached to his body.

Suddenly, Derek's face floated into his line of vision, hissing, "Calm down, Stiles. Jesus, be quiet, do you want me to get arrested again?"

Stiles eyes narrowed, and Derek was fairly certain that the muffled "Mmmph" that came from below his hand was Stiles' way of giving an affirmative to that sentiment. Derek kept his hand where it was until Stiles' breathing began to settle, but recoiled quickly when he felt something wet slide across his palm.

"Ugh, gross, did you just lick me?!"

Stiles wiped his mouth with his good hand before sputtering out, "Uh, I think it was a little worse for me, Derek. I don't even want to think about where your filthy paws have been. And unfortunately, I mean that in the very literal sense."

Derek growled in his throat, but Stiles cut him off quickly, unable to stop an adrenaline fueled rant.

"No, no, no, Sourwolf. You don't get to play that game today. It's 4 in the morning and you're lurking over my hospital bed. Because I'm in the hospital. Because your beta broke my arm. And dislocated my shoulder. What the hell are you doing here?!"

Derek remained silent, mouth pressed in a thin line of...annoyance? Anger? Stiles could only guess, as Derek (being Derek) remained impenetrable. He stood over Stiles, hand twisted into the shoulder of Stiles' hospital gown frowning until Stiles thought he might snap.

"Jesus Christ, would you at least back off a little if you aren't going to say anything? Get off of me!" Stiles shouted before twisting his shoulder out of Derek's grip- and promptly letting out a pained (and totally humiliating) whimper as his shoulder reminded him why he was in the hospital.

God, it had felt fine seconds ago when...oh.

Oh.

"Have you...were you...were you werewolf mojo-ing me?" Stiles whispered, eyes flitting up to Derek's face.

Derek's face flushed, and he struggled to grit out, "You...you were moaning in your sleep, your heartbeat was acting up...I could sense your distress," He added before quickly looking away.

Stiles felt touched for a moment. But that quickly morphed into confusion. With a furrowed brow, he said, "Wait, wait...were you...watching me sleep?!" Stiles jerked back at the sudden realization, and looked at Derek with a strange mixture of bewilderment, horror, and also affection.

A most endearing expression.

"What the hell, Derek? Even for you, this is like...this is a whole new level of creepy, I mean-"

"Stiles, shut up." Derek grumbled, gripping his forehead in one hand in an effort to hide his embarrassment at being caught.

"-not that I'm not grateful, that pain drain stuff-"

"Stiles-"

"-it really does the trick, I don't know what I'd have done without Scott-"

"Stiles!"

Stiles snapped his jaw shut and made eye contact with the Alpha.

After a long moment of silence, Stiles murmured, "Sorry, they're lowering the dosages of the good stuff so I have more energy now...and I'm not sure when I last had my normal meds." Derek frowned and Stiles couldn't help but flinch back at his expression. "I mean I guess they could've given them to me and I didn't know, I'm just not sure..."

"I didn't mean it like that, Stiles. It's fine," Derek said with an expression that Stiles couldn't quite understand. "I just came by to...uh...check out the damage...Erica..."

Stiles felt bitterness pool in his stomach as Derek trailed off. What, was he here to make sure Stiles was going to keep his mouth shut? Screw that.

"And you had to come by at 4 am to 'check out the damage'? What, making sure she didn't let me off easy? Screw you, Derek, I-"

Derek turned to glare at him sharply, before interrupting, "She didn't mean to hurt you."

"What a great excuse, that always works in court 'I didn't mean to almost tear his arm off'." Derek took a step forward and Stiles couldn't help feeling threatened, his heartbeat picking up a few paces. He held out his good arm defensively (not a great defense against werewolves, as his other arm could attest), "I didn't...I didn't mean it like that, okay? Jesus, I'm not actually going to rat her out."

Derek's face seemed to soften - as much as was possible for him - and he took a step back with his arms up in a non-threatening position. "That's not what I'm trying to do here, Stiles- Christ, this shouldn't be so hard. Look, no one wanted you hurt...she...she didn't know what she was doing, Stiles. She doesn't know her own strength."

Stiles' anger resurfaced as he bit out, "And whose fault is that?!"

Derek's eyes, flashing red, shot to Stiles' face as he snapped, "Mine!"

A moment of resounding silence followed as Derek tried calm himself and Stiles tried to process the very strange course of events taking place this early morning.

Suddenly, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Wait, wait, wait," Stiles began, looking at Derek as if he had sprouted a second head (which, in Stiles' defense, he had seen things equally strange happen in Beacon Hills), "is this...I mean...is this you attempting to apologize?"

Derek's face flushed once again.

Suddenly, Stiles couldn't help himself.

He burst into laughter.

His laughter grew so intense that he started to cry, and then his shaking began to pull on his injured limb and he had to force himself to calm down as the tears were becoming tears of pain.

"Oh my god, Derek. You are so bad at apologizing. I thought you were going to kill me for a second," Stiles managed to choke out between breaths as he started to settle down.

Derek, looked thoroughly irritated and possibly hadn't ruled out the option of killing Stiles. But to his credit, he hadn't stormed off which is what Stiles would have expected.

Derek finally grumbled, "Look, I don't have a lot of experience with this, okay? I...it's been awhile, I've been on my own for years."

Stiles forced himself to calm down at the somber reminder of Derek's lonely existence. He really wasn't used to doing this.

All the bitterness Stiles had been feeling evaporated in an instant, as it occurred to him that Derek was forcing himself to endure something he found so wholly unpleasant for Stiles' benefit.

"I'm sorry," Stiles mumbled, although he couldn't keep the small smirk from returning, "I shouldn't have laughed. You aren't used to this...you have the floor," he added with an expectant smile. Sure, he felt a little bad, but that didn't make him want to milk this moment any less.

Derek, now thoroughly less terrifying considering his angry expression was focused on himself and not directed at Stiles, let out a deep sigh, before mumbling, "I'm...I'm sorry. I...didn't mean for you to get hurt. I...I've been a werewolf my whole life. I've grown up just...I grew up being taught how to control my strength, to avoid injuring anyone."

Stiles remained remarkably quiet as Derek struggled to find the right words in what was quite possibly his first apology in several years.

"I was taught early on to be aware of how to interact with humans. But I...I was so focused on getting my pack in top fighting shape...I just didn't foresee this being a problem."

Stiles couldn't help but groan. Sure, Derek was displaying it in a different way than Scott and Isaac (who nearly puppy-eyed him to death), but this was guilt.

Sure, it manifested itself into sort of terrifying anger from the Alpha.

But once again, Stiles was being subjected to overwhelming werewolf guilt.

"Derek - and for the record, I can't believe I have to do this again - but, Derek, jesus...it's not your fault. Seriously. And anyways, I'm going to be fine. I'll be good as new in no time...well not no time, but only some time I think."

Derek had lost his anger and was slipping dangerously close to dejected puppy territory.

"Besides, if me nearly losing an arm is what it takes to get you to display real human emotions, I am happy to make the sacrifice."

There was that familiar Sourwolf scowl Stiles had grown so fond of.

They were silent for a moment before Derek said gently (well...Derek style gently), "Really, Stiles. I'm...sorry you got caught in the middle of this. I never wanted you to get hurt."

Stiles felt himself becoming dangerously emotional at that sentiment. It was nice having a Sourwolf in your corner.

Before Derek could read his mind (a skill Stiles was certain the Alpha possessed), Stiles forced himself to joke, "My god, this must be what it was like when the Grinch's heart grew three sizes."

Derek felt an unusual tug at the corner of his lips and realized Stiles might not have been that far off with that joke. He settled himself into a hospital chair and gently returned his hand to Stiles' shoulder.

"Go to sleep, Stiles."

Without the pain in his shoulder or tension in his stomach, nothing remained to tether Stiles to consciousness. He slipped off to sleep with a whispered, "G'night, Sourwolf."

Hopefully those of you following along enjoyed! Thank you again to all of the people who have been keeping up with the story! If you have a moment to jot down your thoughts in review form, I would love to hear them!