Danny walks back home after the game—he always does—it helps him cool off and ease back into a basal state of activity, so it's sort of become his ritual. He's usually alone, telling his parents to drive home ahead, but tonight, Jackson decided to tag along—which is fine, really. Besides, they haven't really had a chance to talk lately.

"That was a pretty good game, huh?" Jackson pats Danny's back, eliciting a grin from him.

"Yeah, we kicked ass," Danny replies, shuffling his feet tiredly on the pavement. He's pretty satisfied about their performance tonight—his own performance too, to be honest—because in the end, Danny likes to win. Loves it, even. They talk some more about the game, about each other's techniques and McCall's weird, improved skills until they fall back into comfortable silence.

"I dumped Lydia today," Jackson blurts out, catching Danny's attention.

"You did?" Danny's kind of surprised. He always thought Jackson wouldn't let go of Lydia until at least after graduating from high school. They're the power couple around town and those rarely break up.

"Yeah, she was kind of weighing me down, too high maintenance, not worth it," Jackson explains vaguely, his words feeling oddly rushed. Danny just nods and shrugs, not sure what to say. And honestly, he doesn't think there's anything to say in that kind of situation, really.

"What about you, dude? No guy problems on your part?" Jackson asks, causing Danny's thoughts to drift back to this afternoon's events, Stiles' cousin dry humping him in Stiles' own bedroom.

"Uh, no," Danny answers vaguely, hoping Jackson will feel satisfied with that answer and feel relieved that he doesn't have to talk about it furthermore. Straight guys are usually not comfortable talking about gay guys' love life—much less their sex life—so Danny's kind of glad he doesn't have to talk about it.

"Come on, man," Jackson teases him. "Hot guy like you, I can't believe you don't get some action."

"Seriously," Danny insists, a bit thrown off. Jackson usually never bothers pushing past the first question regarding his love life.

"All right, cool," Jackson says as they approach his house, hands raised in the air. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Danny watches his best friend walk up to his house and keeps on walking the few blocks over to his own home. As he nears his house, lit up by the moonlight, he makes out a silhouette on the other side of the road coming his way. It's a man, limping towards him.

"Danny," the man breathes out and up close; Danny manages to make out his features. It's Stiles' cousin, his arm clutching his stomach. His bloody stomach actually, and not just a few bloodstains like earlier, the entire bottom half of his shirt is covered in blood, most of which isn't even dry. Danny doubts he got this from nosebleeds.

"Miguel?"

"Derek…" Miguel says and almost keels over but Danny catches the wounded man in his arms, his duffle bag falling heavily to the ground.

"What happened?" Danny starts panicking, throwing Miguel's free arm around his shoulders and half carrying him over to his house. From the looks of it, Miguel's still bleeding; they need to stop it before he completely bleeds out. "Miguel?"

"Stop calling me that ridiculous name, my name's Derek."

Danny's confused, questions rising in his mind but he pushes them aside for the time being.

"I'm going to be fine," Derek rasps out, coughing some blood on Danny's front porch. He'll have to clean that up later. "Just need to rest."

"Yeah, right," Danny snorts as he brings Derek in, carrying his body to the bathroom. Looking back on their steps, he's relieved to see they didn't leave any blood on the floor. It's a good thing his parents start work early, they already went to bed. He lays Derek down on the tiled floor and grabs some clean towels and a bottle of antiseptic before taking Derek's shirt off as carefully as possible, wincing when he sees the big slashes across Derek's stomach. It looks like some bear tried to cut him open.

"Jesus," Danny breathes out as he hurries to clean up the wounds, spraying alcohol all over the blood, cringing at Derek's hisses of pain. Pink clear liquid runs down Derek's skin on the white tiles as Danny pats Derek's stomach as softly as possible with sterile compresses his dad brought back from the hospital. The cuts are too deep, and Danny's afraid Derek will need stitches. There's nothing he can really do. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"No," Derek growls, trying to sit up but more blood comes out of the wound at the move, causing Danny to put him down on the floor with a firm grip on Derek's shoulder.

"Don't move," Danny orders him.

"No hospital," Derek says, looking at him with pleading eyes so blue it steals Danny's breath away. Danny shouldn't be this affected, it's ridiculous. He doesn't really know the guy, now even less than before—he's assuming Derek's not really Stiles' cousin either.

"You need stitches, I won't be much help," Danny says dejectedly. This is exactly why he wants to go into medicine, he hates feeling powerless and clueless.

"I'll be fine," Derek repeats, eyes shut, hands reaching out for Danny's. "I just need to rest."

Danny sighs, still not convinced in the least. Danny stays with Derek for a while, hands applying pressure on his wounds to stop the haemorrhage. From where he's crouching, he manages to get some water—thanks to his height—and hands it to Derek who most likely needs it.

"Who are you, really?" Danny asks as he puts down the plastic glass down beside Derek's head, figuring he might as well try to get to know the stranger he's harboring in his house. A stranger who, just a few hours ago, jumped on him like a sex starved man—not that Danny's complaining about that part, but as far as he knows, this Derek guy could be a psychotic killer.

"Derek Hale."

Ok, so psychotic killer it is, and wanted by the police too. Great. What's he supposed to do now? He can't possibly tell him about the police looking for him; it might trigger the killer instincts in the guy.

"I'm not a killer," Derek says, his gaze piercing right through Danny, as if he was just reading his thoughts.

"How am I supposed to believe that?" Danny retorts, checking the wounds that seem to have stopped bleeding and getting up to throw the towels in the sink before leaning on the edges of it with both hands, back turned on Derek.

"I don't owe you any explanations," Derek starts saying, heaving a sigh mid-sentence. "But I owe you my life, so I will explain. Later."

Danny lets out a long breath, turning on the tap and splashing some much needed cool water on his face. He's exhausted and could really use some sleep. Thank God he took a shower right after the game, he's completely beat.

"What am I going to do with you?" Danny says aloud, turning around to look down at Derek on the floor. Before Derek can say anything, Danny turns back to the cabinet, taking some more compresses and large tegaderm film dressings. He doesn't know much, but he at least learned the basics from his dad and knows how to dress a wound in sterile conditions. He already helped Derek so far, he might as well finish, Danny thinks. Besides, Derek doesn't really strike him as a serial killer anyways.

"All right, hold still," Danny instructs Derek as he washes his hands with hand sanitizer. "I'm going to patch you up."

"Thank you," Derek mutters, his gaze catching Danny's. He looks so vulnerable and defenseless that Danny believes Derek might actually be sincere.

He doesn't know how long it takes him to dress Derek's wounds but to his surprise, the wounds somewhat seem smaller and more shallow than earlier. At least the compresses aren't completely soaked in blood, indicating that there isn't more bleeding occurring.

"Do you think you can get up?" Danny asks once he's done, throwing his sterile gloves in the trashcan. He glances at his watch: midnight already. He's glad this happened on a Friday night, he doesn't think he would've been able to get up early enough for school.

"Yeah," Derek replies, managing to sit up and with Danny's help, they go upstairs to his bedroom.

"Hope you don't mind sleeping in my bed, I'd rather not have my parents find you," Danny says as he lays Derek down on his queen-sized bed. It's a good thing he needs space when he sleeps and got this large bed; a single stopped being enough for him years ago. Derek shakes his head, settling more comfortably on top of the covers before falling quickly asleep.

Danny goes back downstairs to clean up after the mess they made, mainly in the bathroom, and retrieves his sports bag from outside. All while doing so, he can't stop thinking about the man sleeping in his bed upstairs. He can't deny he's extremely attracted to Derek and he's still confused about how Derek came to being hurt so badly—not to mention his wanted status by the entire state.

He locks after letting himself back in his bedroom, eyes fixed on the man sleeping soundly on his bed. He looks so peaceful, his angular face so beautiful in the moonlight, it suits him eerily well. Dressing down to his boxers and a tank top, Danny slips under the covers, back turned on Derek, and attempts to sleep, trying not to worry too much about tomorrow.

After many requests, here is a sequel to my first teen wolf fic and also first Derek/Danny fic out there in the fandom. Danny deserves more attention, here it is. I don't care if I'm the only one writing this pairing, I will defend it until the end. Derek/Stiles seems to be the most popular pairing and while I don't dislike it, I prefer Derek paired with others. Also, I should warn you beforehand, I don't like Scott. So take that into account when reading this story. I won't bash him, I don't like character bashing, but I probably won't write much of him or he will be OOC ('cause let's face it, he's a hateful character on the show).

Enough ranting, hope you guys enjoy this story, I don't know where I'm headed and the difficulty is that I'm kind of anchored to the canon storyline here...we'll see how the show plays out, I might go on a separate path.

Please do let me know what you think!