Author's notes: This fic was inspired by a gifset by Paquim, unfortunately I cant link you to it, so you'll just have to believe me when I say the end scene is a written recreation of that gif. If you want to see it, there is a link to the gifset on the copy of this work that I published on Ao3, the Ao3 link on my profile page will take you straight to my profile, and form there you only need to search my works to find this one. :)

He's just put the Jeep into gear when Derek taps on the passenger side window, Stiles stops and stares as he throws his duffle into the backseat and slides into the car.

"How- Why are you here?" he sounds closed off, Derek thinks almost suspicious; He doesn't take it personally.

"Lydia called. It was… time to come back."

"Oh"

Their eyes meet unintentionally as Stiles pulls up to the intersection at the end of the street.

He looks away before saying. "I was going to the hospital…"

"I'll come."

Theres a pause before he nods, and Derek wonders why he's going alone. Lydia hadn't elaborated, but Stiles doesn't smell as much like Pack as he used to. Specifically, less like Scott.

He's shocked into silence when he see's who's tapping on the window, and it's a nice feeling because its so different from the barely contained rage he's been living with for the past few days.

Derek gives him a soft smile as he sits down and for a moment he's suspicious. Why is he here? He doesn't believe Derek would play envoy to Scott though, certainly hopes he's not going to try. He wouldn't come back just to play peacemaker anyway.

He pulls onto the main road and tries not to think about where he's going. If he does he'll lose this skin deep calm, and he cant, he cant afford to break down now.

His knuckles are white on the steering wheel to keep his hands from shaking and he can feel Derek watching him. He has to keep going though, if he pulls over that will be it. He'll shatter like a ming vase and no one will be around to help pick up the pieces.

No one thats likely to stay.

"How long this time?" He says it flippantly, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. Cover up the chaos in his head.

Derek just shrugs, and suddenly Stiles is furious with him too. How fucking dare he. How dare he leave them. Leave Stiles. Just when he needed him the most.

He jams on the breaks and pulls over, turning to snarl "Get out" as they skid to a stop on the verge.

Derek looks at him startled, realizes Stiles isn't backing down and pops the door. Stiles meets him by the hood, storming into his personal space and shoving hard.

"Fuck you. Derek Hale. You think you can just waltz back here when you feel like it?" He shoves him again. "When you think I need you? What am I a charity case? How dare you, you Arrogant, Pig headed, Asshole!" He punctuates each point with a punch. "I don't want you're fucking pity. I don't want your stupid comfort!" Derek stumbles back onto the grass "I wanted you to keep him safe! And where the fuck where you?" Stiles grabs him by the collar and shakes "HUH? WHERE WERE YOU DEREK?" he throws him down and follows to kneel over him, fist raised, Derek just stays there, passive, doesn't even try to stop him or answer him and it makes him angrier. Makes his blood boil, because this- this is not really Derek's fault, Stiles isn't really angry with him and Derek is not the person he should be having this fight with; but he cant seem to stop, the flood gates have opened and its all coming out. "I'll tell you where: you were fucking NOWHERE! Cos lets face it Derek, YOU'RE NEVER FUCKING HERE WHEN IT COUNTS!" He punches him, hard and he can hear Derek's neck crack. His knuckles come away bloody but he still doesn't care. He keeps punching because he knows Derek will heal, knows Derek could push him off if he needed to; and in a perverse way, he feels as though Derek owes him this. That this is the reason he's here; this specific purpose.

When his blood begins to cool, the rage and pain and fear shaking out of him in adrenalin, Derek lifts them both up. Standing without moving Stiles so they come chest to chest, eye to eye.

New guilt floods into the vacant space left by his own personal 'I should have been there', and he finds he cannot meet his gaze. Instead he mumbles "I'm sorry" to Derek's henley, and shuffles around to his side of the car.

Derek tries to catch his eye. To tell him it's okay, he understands, even expected his reaction; but Stiles carefully avoids it and the moment passes.

Stiles starts the engine and pulls away, the rest of the trip passes in silence and Derek counts the times Stiles glances at him when he thinks he wont notice.

It reaches 15 passing the police station, and is at 19 by the time they turn into the Hospital carpark, 22 as they walk through the sliding doors.

Stiles signs in, smiling grimly at the nurse when she calls him by name, she barely notices Derek. Maybe he's been in so many hospitals now he's started to become part of the scenery, the people so used to his presence they're blind to it.

Stiles strides towards the elevator and Derek follows him. Turning around to face the doors, shoulder to shoulder with Stiles. No one else comes, so he presses the button for the third floor and the doors slide shut.

He is acutely aware of the low level pain radiating off Stiles. It's a familiar smell, He'd lived with that smell for six years in the flat with his sister. Probably still lives with it but is so inured to it he wouldn't know. Stiles' though, Stiles' pain runs across his senses like a razor, catching on all the little pumps and scars, leaving his nerves raw and agitated.

He looks up at the numbers counting them to their destination and with a sense of gentle urgency reaches blindly for Stiles' hand.

He hadn't said it earlier, Stiles hadn't let him, but now… here. He can show he understands. This is why he came back: to give Stiles someone to fall back on, to support him in his darkest hour, to finally be there.

His fingers grip Derek's reflexively, his mind still scrambling to catch up.

He looks down at the way Derek has slotted their fingers together, from behind, an act of submission, or maybe support. He isn't taking Stiles hand for comfort, rather, offering his own for Stiles'.

He looks over at the wolf, and briefly they meet each others gaze. They communicate everything with that look, their shared grief, old and new; understanding; forgiveness.

Derek slides his thumb against Stiles' knuckle, a soothing gesture, a balm, a reminder. He is not alone; he will not leave him alone.

They always say the most important things in silence.

The doors slide open and Stiles walks towards his fathers ward, Derek by his side.

Author's notes: Be Radical, Leave a review.

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