Fic: we have an emergency
Author: froggydarren
Title: we have an emergency
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: pre-Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Melissa McCall, John Stilinski, Jordan Parrish, Allison Argent, Erica Reyes, Scott McCall
Summary: Stiles would like to state for the record that he's not trying to get himself injured on the job. And it's also absolutely unnecessary that he be admitted every time. Unlike when Chief Hale does get injured and Stiles insists on the EMTs doing a thorough job. And it's not like he cares about Chief Hale particularly, he's just being a good Deputy, that's all.
Aka: five times there was an emergency, and one time there wasn't.
Warnings: n/a
Content Notes: firefighter Derek, Deputy Stiles, AU, 5+1 fic, background Scott/Allison
Submission Type: Fic
Word Count: 2933
Prompt: #221 - emergency
Author's Notes: Whoops this got away on me a teeny little bit. Also I'm sorry for posting late, silly sleep getting in the way of fic :( Unbetaed.
“Come on, Melissa, I’m fine,” Stiles protests loudly.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his uniform ruffled and shirt undone, fingers clutching the edge of the mattress.
“You’ll be fine when I say you are,” Melissa replies without looking at him, scribbling down notes on the pad in her hand. “I’ll need you to lie back down and stay still.”
“I’m fine,” Stiles repeats, but he does as she says and slumps onto the pillow. “It’s nothing that a little fresh air couldn’t fix.”
“Who’s got the medical experience here, kid?”
“You?”
“That’s right,” she says firmly. “Now, your blood test will be a while, but I’m gonna need you to get the oxygen mask on and keep it there until I tell you it’s okay to take it off.”
“I wasn’t even…” Stiles starts, but Melissa levels him with a glare that leaves no room for argument. “Fine,” he says with resignation and grabs the mask out of her hand.
He’s been brought into the emergency room -- under duress, he stated several times -- after he and his partner were called out to the scene of a fire a few hours earlier. The fire brigade had arrived after them, and both Stiles and Parrish spent a little too much time around the smoke for the EMTs to be comfortable just letting them go, apparently. So he’s in Melissa’s hands now, the same ones he used to appreciate when it came to his Dad’s health.
“I’m still supposed to be on shift,” he mumbles into the mask, knowing that he’s sounding a little like a petulant child.
“And I’m sure your father would rather you get checked over thoroughly instead of letting possible smoke inhalation mess up your lungs,” Melissa tells him. “Don’t make me call him to talk sense into you.”
“He’ll probably be here soon anyway, I’m sure he heard,” Stiles says with a deep sigh that sends a fresh load of air into his lungs.
So he coughed once while at the scene. He just stupidly did it within earshot of one of the firemen -- Chief Hale -- who immediately alerted the EMTs.
“Stupid overprotective Hale,” Stiles mutters to himself as he thinks back on the Chief’s decision to get him checked out. “Could’ve been back in the car with Parrish already, but no…”
His shoulders slump as he keeps breathing through the mask, and he starts running through the events of the afternoon in his mind so he remembers all the details later, when he’ll inevitably end up writing the report. He might as well use the time for something, since Melissa won’t let him leave until she’s completely happy with his results. He’s learned that lesson over the years he’s been her son’s best friend.
-=-=-=-=-
It’s not a fire the second time they run into each other that week. Stiles gets to the scene as fast as he can, ignoring Parrish’s complaints about his driving. And yet, the fire brigade is already there, Reyes and Boyd standing at the back of the truck with worried expressions on their faces as they’re looking up.
Stiles follows their matching gazes to the roof of the school, and he almost -- almost, dammit -- gasps at the sight that greets him.
“What the fuck is he doing up there?” Stiles asks when he sees Hale on the ledge, ladder quite a distance away from him.
“He refused to let anyone else up,” Boyd grunts. “Said he knows how to deal with it.”
“Fuck protocol, right,” Stiles says with a sigh. “He shouldn’t be up there.”
“Kid wasn’t gonna jump,” Reyes -- Erica, Stiles reminds himself -- says, her eyes fixed on her Chief still. “Got stuck when the Seniors were pulling a prank, but Derek still insisted he’d go up to help.”
“Small mercies, I guess,” Stiles says.
They all watch as Chief Hale helps the kid back up from the side of the building, and they follow him as he climbs back down. Both the Chief and the kid are almost on the ground when the ladder shakes, the kid loses his balance, and they both come tumbling down onto the lawn below them.
This time it’s Stiles who insists that the EMTs -- who arrived just after Stiles and Parrish -- check Chief Hale over and bring him to the hospital to rule out breaks and concussions.
Payback.
-=-=-=-=-=-
The next time that he’s brought to the hospital, he’s cringing in embarrassment. He knows why he’s there, and he knows it’s unnecessary, but he also remembers the exact sequence of events that led to him being there.
“I thought you were past fainting at the sight of blood, kiddo,” his father says when he gets in.
“This wasn’t just blood, Dad,” Stiles protests weakly.
The scene that he went to was particularly gruesome, but Stiles is still not proud of his fainting spell. It wasn’t the blood really, that made his head spin, but the burns on the victim and the still smoldering parts of the house. He was the first on the scene, before the fire trucks or the on duty patrol car arrived. He’s gotten better with blood, and with injuries of all different kinds, but fire… fire is still something he’s having a hard time with. He doesn’t know how the firefighters do it.
“I saw,” John says, and he lets out a sigh. “I also saw that you were there before the scene was cleared for anyone to enter.”
“Dad…”
“No, do not Dad me here kid,” John said sternly. “As your father and your boss, I’m extremely unimpressed right now. You went in before the fire department even got there, without backup. You’re lucky that Chief Hale was there so fast.”
“Oh no,” Stiles mutters at the mention of the Fire Chief. “Please don’t tell me…”
“He’s the one who got you out, yes,” John says, and there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “Glad he did. Extra glad he checked the house before they doused it with water.”
“I’m never gonna live this down,” Stiles says, slumping into the pillows on the bed.
“Well, at least you’re gonna live to tell the tale,” John laughs, “even if it’s missing the parts where you were carried out of the house.”
“He did what?” Stiles sits up a little too fast, and them falls back into the pillows when his head spins.
He pointedly ignores his father’s chuckles, and instead decides that a nap will somehow help restore his dignity.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Parrish stops the patrol car at the neighboring house when they arrive. There’s a commotion in the street, and Stiles can barely spot the firefighters among the crowd, though the truck is right in front of the house they got called to. He can’t see smoke, which makes him let out a relieved sigh, but the amount of bystanders who look like they’re impeding the firefighters’ work is worrying.
“Think we’ll need backup?” Stiles asks Parrish as they start getting out.
“We’ll see. Keep the comm handy though,” Parrish says, already assessing the situation.
They walk past the Fire Chief’s car on the way to the scene, and Stiles can’t help but look for Chief Hale. When he can’t see the familiar dark hair among the uniforms, he starts worrying, because he’s so used to Hale always being somewhere very visible.
“Where’s the Chief?” Parrish asks, like he’s reading Stiles’ mind. “Who can brief us?”
“No fire, no smoke, call was to a recovery from the roof,” Reyes rattles off. “Simple job, ladder fell down and the guy slipped down the side. EMTs got him now, but he’s…”
She’s interrupted by a protesting yell from where the ambulance is, and Stiles glances over to spot the injured guy fighting the EMTs, though he’s strapped to the gurney.
“He’s been fighting us about getting admitted,” Reyes finishes with a heavy sigh. “I’m guessing he doesn’t have insurance, but since we got the call, Chief insisted on getting him checked out.”
“Of course he did,” Stiles grumbles. “Where is he, anyway?”
Both he and Parrish turn in the direction that Reyes points to, and Stiles freezes when he sees blood on Chief Hale’s face.
“What the hell happened?” Parrish asks sharply.
“Guy really didn’t want to be treated, even though his arm was covered in blood,” Lahey -- another one of the firefighters who appears next to them -- explains. “Chief insists that he’s fine, he just tried to help hold the guy and got a fist in the face for his trouble. That’s not his blood. Or so he says.”
The EMTs finally get the gurney into the ambulance with the help of some of the other firefighters and a civilian -- the way she’s talking to the injured guy, Stiles figures it’s his wife. Before they drive off, though, one of them turns to Chief Hale. She’s rewarded with a shake of the head, and a frown that Stiles is all too familiar with. It’s the one that says “no” in several unspoken languages. Allison -- the EMT -- is however determined, and walks closer, making the frown intensify in a way that even Stiles thought was impossible.
“I’m gonna check in with the EMTs,” Stiles says. “You okay?” He turns to Parrish for a beat, and then heads towards the ambulance when he sees Parrish’s nod.
Allison is frowning right back at Hale when Stiles reaches them, and he’s momentarily wondering whether he should get in the middle of that stand-off.
“What’s up, Chief?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” Hale grunts out the response, eyes still on Allison.
“See, I’m not so sure,” Stiles starts, already knowing he’s about to ramble. “I can very clearly see blood, and while I’m willing to give a moment to your insistence that it’s not yours, I also don’t completely believe you. So how about you just let Miss Argent here look you over, maybe wipe off the bodily fluids, and while she’s doing that, she can brief me on the fallen hero over there,” he finished with a nod towards the ambulance.
It’s just the right thing to say, apparently, because Hale turns to Stiles, and that’s enough for Allison to step closer and put her hands on the bloodied cheek. The hiss Stiles hears when her fingers touch the Chief’s cheek is enough for him to dig his heels in and insist that the fire truck deal without their Chief until he gets checked out in the hospital.
He’s not gloating when the ambulance drives off with Chief Hale on the passenger seat. That would be childish, and he’s a mature officer of the law who doesn’t gloat.
-=-=-=-=-=-
The easiest of the calls is the one where they go to the scene of a fire as backup, long after the fire trucks have arrived. Those times, in Beacon Hills, the most that Stiles needs to do is interview the people who were nearby, and then fill out all the reports when he’s done.
The toughest of the calls… well, the one that ended up with him fainting definitely counts, but the absolutely worst calls are the ones that have him and Parrish at the scene before the firefighters. Especially when there are victims who are extra vulnerable, and need more help.
“Parrish, we have to go in!” Stiles shouts over the noise of the flames from the house. “The truck is still a few minutes out, we’ve gotta…”
“We can’t! You don’t know when…” Parrish yells back, his eyes darting between Stiles and the house.
Just then, one of the window panes breaks and more flames burst out of it on the top floor. Stiles’ heart is beating in his throat, and he scans the rest of the windows for signs of anyone needing help. There are shadows and there’s smoke, too much of both to let him see anything.
“Stiles!” Parrish calls out when Stiles starts moving towards the house to get a better look. “Come on, it’s too late for us to go in! The truck will be here soon, stop!”
He can’t wait though. Can’t just stand around to wait for the firefighters, can’t do nothing. So he goes closer, keeps checking the windows to see if there’s anyone there. Behind him, he can hear Parrish shouting some more, and through the roar of the flames above he thinks he can hear tires screeching to a halt.
Just when he’s about to turn to check if the fire truck is getting there, another window on the second floor bursts out, and glass shards fly everywhere. Stiles does the only thing he can think of right then: he ducks down and curls in on himself, his back out like a shield. He can feel the prickling pain as the glass rains down on him, and hears the stomping of feet running towards him. There’s still glass falling a few beats later as the next window pane breaks -- or at least he thinks that’s what he’s hearing -- but none of it seems to be falling on him this time.
“Don’t move,” the familiar voice of Chief Hale orders when he tries to stand up. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Why are you this close to the house?”
“There could’ve been people,” Stiles replies weakly, wondering if he’s loud enough to be heard over the roar of the flames and the fire truck engine.
“You’re insane, and you’re going right into the ambulance, since apparently that’s what it’s here for now,” Chief Hale says, and helps Stiles carefully get off the ground.
There’s glass everywhere on the lawn, and they slowly walk over to the trucks, where a frantic Parrish is standing.
“I told you to stay here!” Parrish says, his voice tinted with anger and worry.
Stiles doesn’t dare to talk as he’s led towards Allison, who’s already putting on gloves and setting out her kit to help, her movements betraying her worry.
“RIght, both of you, stand here,” she says to Stiles and the Chief.
“I have to…” Chief Hale starts, but he’s shut down by a glare from her that sends chills down Stiles’ spine that have nothing to do with the glass pieces still embedded in his uniform.
“You have to nothing, Derek,” she says. “Your team is on it, Boyd’s got it under control. The house was empty,” she says with a pointed glare at Stiles. “The only thing either of you is doing is standing here, letting me get the glass out of wherever it went, and then going to the hospital.”
The way that they curse in unison would normally get some sort of pleasant or amused reaction from Stiles, but this time he just obeys Allison’s instructions and keeps his mouth shut.
-=-=-=-=-=-
“I’m not here for me,” Stiles says when he runs into Chief Hale -- Derek, he reminds himself -- at the nurses’ station.
“Did I say anything?” Derek asks, but it’s that little bit too defensive, giving away that he was going to comment on Stiles being in the hospital again.
It’s a few months after the fire that had both of them treated for cuts, pointedly ignoring each other even though they were in the same room.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m waiting for my friends,” Stiles says just as defensively. “They had their first ultrasound appointment.”
“Allison?” Derek asks, looking surprised.
“How did you know?”
“I’m here to pick her up,” Derek says. “You are Scott’s best friend. I should’ve known.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles bristles.
“I’ve heard stories about the things you two got up to,” Derek tells him, his lips curled into a smile, eyes shining with amusement. “Not that I expected the young delinquent to have grown up to be an officer of the law.”
“Well, it helped knowing the laws we were very much not breaking back them,” Stiles says, matching Derek’s grin.
The laugh he gets in response takes his breath away a little. He’s too used to seeing Derek as the Fire Chief, stern and serious, and the smile on his face is fascinating. When Stiles’ mouth drops open in surprise, he doesn’t miss the way Derek’s eyes follow the movement.
“Oh wow,” a voice from behind their backs interrupts the moment.
They both turn around and come face to face with Allison, who’s unabashedly grinning at them. Stiles briefly considers frowning, but her dimpled face looks too happy to be angry at.
“This strangely makes sense,” she says without explanation, and Stiles glances at Derek, who looks just as confused.
“What?” They ask in unison when they both turn back to her.
“Oh wow,” Scott says when he walks up behind her. “You were right.”
“What?” Stiles asks again.
“Right, we’re going for breakfast. You two are coming with,” Allison says, leaving no room for an argument.
He could try, but Stiles knows better than to try and reason with that tone. The last time he heard it, he had glass shards all over his back, and the memory alone is enough to make him follow her and Scott outside. Derek reluctantly follows, apparently also not willing to fight Allison’s decision.
By the time Allison and Scott leave again, the breakfast has turned into brunch, Derek and Stiles are deep in a conversation that makes them forget everything around them. In Stiles’ opinion -- not that anyone bothers asking -- there really isn’t any need for Allison’s “don’t make out in public, you’ll get in trouble” comment as she walks away.
He’s not thinking about that, honest.
When he meets Derek’s gaze though, he wonders if he should be.
Title: we have an emergency
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: pre-Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Melissa McCall, John Stilinski, Jordan Parrish, Allison Argent, Erica Reyes, Scott McCall
Summary: Stiles would like to state for the record that he's not trying to get himself injured on the job. And it's also absolutely unnecessary that he be admitted every time. Unlike when Chief Hale does get injured and Stiles insists on the EMTs doing a thorough job. And it's not like he cares about Chief Hale particularly, he's just being a good Deputy, that's all.
Aka: five times there was an emergency, and one time there wasn't.
Warnings: n/a
Content Notes: firefighter Derek, Deputy Stiles, AU, 5+1 fic, background Scott/Allison
Submission Type: Fic
Word Count: 2933
Prompt: #221 - emergency
Author's Notes: Whoops this got away on me a teeny little bit. Also I'm sorry for posting late, silly sleep getting in the way of fic :( Unbetaed.
“Come on, Melissa, I’m fine,” Stiles protests loudly.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his uniform ruffled and shirt undone, fingers clutching the edge of the mattress.
“You’ll be fine when I say you are,” Melissa replies without looking at him, scribbling down notes on the pad in her hand. “I’ll need you to lie back down and stay still.”
“I’m fine,” Stiles repeats, but he does as she says and slumps onto the pillow. “It’s nothing that a little fresh air couldn’t fix.”
“Who’s got the medical experience here, kid?”
“You?”
“That’s right,” she says firmly. “Now, your blood test will be a while, but I’m gonna need you to get the oxygen mask on and keep it there until I tell you it’s okay to take it off.”
“I wasn’t even…” Stiles starts, but Melissa levels him with a glare that leaves no room for argument. “Fine,” he says with resignation and grabs the mask out of her hand.
He’s been brought into the emergency room -- under duress, he stated several times -- after he and his partner were called out to the scene of a fire a few hours earlier. The fire brigade had arrived after them, and both Stiles and Parrish spent a little too much time around the smoke for the EMTs to be comfortable just letting them go, apparently. So he’s in Melissa’s hands now, the same ones he used to appreciate when it came to his Dad’s health.
“I’m still supposed to be on shift,” he mumbles into the mask, knowing that he’s sounding a little like a petulant child.
“And I’m sure your father would rather you get checked over thoroughly instead of letting possible smoke inhalation mess up your lungs,” Melissa tells him. “Don’t make me call him to talk sense into you.”
“He’ll probably be here soon anyway, I’m sure he heard,” Stiles says with a deep sigh that sends a fresh load of air into his lungs.
So he coughed once while at the scene. He just stupidly did it within earshot of one of the firemen -- Chief Hale -- who immediately alerted the EMTs.
“Stupid overprotective Hale,” Stiles mutters to himself as he thinks back on the Chief’s decision to get him checked out. “Could’ve been back in the car with Parrish already, but no…”
His shoulders slump as he keeps breathing through the mask, and he starts running through the events of the afternoon in his mind so he remembers all the details later, when he’ll inevitably end up writing the report. He might as well use the time for something, since Melissa won’t let him leave until she’s completely happy with his results. He’s learned that lesson over the years he’s been her son’s best friend.
-=-=-=-=-
It’s not a fire the second time they run into each other that week. Stiles gets to the scene as fast as he can, ignoring Parrish’s complaints about his driving. And yet, the fire brigade is already there, Reyes and Boyd standing at the back of the truck with worried expressions on their faces as they’re looking up.
Stiles follows their matching gazes to the roof of the school, and he almost -- almost, dammit -- gasps at the sight that greets him.
“What the fuck is he doing up there?” Stiles asks when he sees Hale on the ledge, ladder quite a distance away from him.
“He refused to let anyone else up,” Boyd grunts. “Said he knows how to deal with it.”
“Fuck protocol, right,” Stiles says with a sigh. “He shouldn’t be up there.”
“Kid wasn’t gonna jump,” Reyes -- Erica, Stiles reminds himself -- says, her eyes fixed on her Chief still. “Got stuck when the Seniors were pulling a prank, but Derek still insisted he’d go up to help.”
“Small mercies, I guess,” Stiles says.
They all watch as Chief Hale helps the kid back up from the side of the building, and they follow him as he climbs back down. Both the Chief and the kid are almost on the ground when the ladder shakes, the kid loses his balance, and they both come tumbling down onto the lawn below them.
This time it’s Stiles who insists that the EMTs -- who arrived just after Stiles and Parrish -- check Chief Hale over and bring him to the hospital to rule out breaks and concussions.
Payback.
-=-=-=-=-=-
The next time that he’s brought to the hospital, he’s cringing in embarrassment. He knows why he’s there, and he knows it’s unnecessary, but he also remembers the exact sequence of events that led to him being there.
“I thought you were past fainting at the sight of blood, kiddo,” his father says when he gets in.
“This wasn’t just blood, Dad,” Stiles protests weakly.
The scene that he went to was particularly gruesome, but Stiles is still not proud of his fainting spell. It wasn’t the blood really, that made his head spin, but the burns on the victim and the still smoldering parts of the house. He was the first on the scene, before the fire trucks or the on duty patrol car arrived. He’s gotten better with blood, and with injuries of all different kinds, but fire… fire is still something he’s having a hard time with. He doesn’t know how the firefighters do it.
“I saw,” John says, and he lets out a sigh. “I also saw that you were there before the scene was cleared for anyone to enter.”
“Dad…”
“No, do not Dad me here kid,” John said sternly. “As your father and your boss, I’m extremely unimpressed right now. You went in before the fire department even got there, without backup. You’re lucky that Chief Hale was there so fast.”
“Oh no,” Stiles mutters at the mention of the Fire Chief. “Please don’t tell me…”
“He’s the one who got you out, yes,” John says, and there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “Glad he did. Extra glad he checked the house before they doused it with water.”
“I’m never gonna live this down,” Stiles says, slumping into the pillows on the bed.
“Well, at least you’re gonna live to tell the tale,” John laughs, “even if it’s missing the parts where you were carried out of the house.”
“He did what?” Stiles sits up a little too fast, and them falls back into the pillows when his head spins.
He pointedly ignores his father’s chuckles, and instead decides that a nap will somehow help restore his dignity.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Parrish stops the patrol car at the neighboring house when they arrive. There’s a commotion in the street, and Stiles can barely spot the firefighters among the crowd, though the truck is right in front of the house they got called to. He can’t see smoke, which makes him let out a relieved sigh, but the amount of bystanders who look like they’re impeding the firefighters’ work is worrying.
“Think we’ll need backup?” Stiles asks Parrish as they start getting out.
“We’ll see. Keep the comm handy though,” Parrish says, already assessing the situation.
They walk past the Fire Chief’s car on the way to the scene, and Stiles can’t help but look for Chief Hale. When he can’t see the familiar dark hair among the uniforms, he starts worrying, because he’s so used to Hale always being somewhere very visible.
“Where’s the Chief?” Parrish asks, like he’s reading Stiles’ mind. “Who can brief us?”
“No fire, no smoke, call was to a recovery from the roof,” Reyes rattles off. “Simple job, ladder fell down and the guy slipped down the side. EMTs got him now, but he’s…”
She’s interrupted by a protesting yell from where the ambulance is, and Stiles glances over to spot the injured guy fighting the EMTs, though he’s strapped to the gurney.
“He’s been fighting us about getting admitted,” Reyes finishes with a heavy sigh. “I’m guessing he doesn’t have insurance, but since we got the call, Chief insisted on getting him checked out.”
“Of course he did,” Stiles grumbles. “Where is he, anyway?”
Both he and Parrish turn in the direction that Reyes points to, and Stiles freezes when he sees blood on Chief Hale’s face.
“What the hell happened?” Parrish asks sharply.
“Guy really didn’t want to be treated, even though his arm was covered in blood,” Lahey -- another one of the firefighters who appears next to them -- explains. “Chief insists that he’s fine, he just tried to help hold the guy and got a fist in the face for his trouble. That’s not his blood. Or so he says.”
The EMTs finally get the gurney into the ambulance with the help of some of the other firefighters and a civilian -- the way she’s talking to the injured guy, Stiles figures it’s his wife. Before they drive off, though, one of them turns to Chief Hale. She’s rewarded with a shake of the head, and a frown that Stiles is all too familiar with. It’s the one that says “no” in several unspoken languages. Allison -- the EMT -- is however determined, and walks closer, making the frown intensify in a way that even Stiles thought was impossible.
“I’m gonna check in with the EMTs,” Stiles says. “You okay?” He turns to Parrish for a beat, and then heads towards the ambulance when he sees Parrish’s nod.
Allison is frowning right back at Hale when Stiles reaches them, and he’s momentarily wondering whether he should get in the middle of that stand-off.
“What’s up, Chief?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” Hale grunts out the response, eyes still on Allison.
“See, I’m not so sure,” Stiles starts, already knowing he’s about to ramble. “I can very clearly see blood, and while I’m willing to give a moment to your insistence that it’s not yours, I also don’t completely believe you. So how about you just let Miss Argent here look you over, maybe wipe off the bodily fluids, and while she’s doing that, she can brief me on the fallen hero over there,” he finished with a nod towards the ambulance.
It’s just the right thing to say, apparently, because Hale turns to Stiles, and that’s enough for Allison to step closer and put her hands on the bloodied cheek. The hiss Stiles hears when her fingers touch the Chief’s cheek is enough for him to dig his heels in and insist that the fire truck deal without their Chief until he gets checked out in the hospital.
He’s not gloating when the ambulance drives off with Chief Hale on the passenger seat. That would be childish, and he’s a mature officer of the law who doesn’t gloat.
-=-=-=-=-=-
The easiest of the calls is the one where they go to the scene of a fire as backup, long after the fire trucks have arrived. Those times, in Beacon Hills, the most that Stiles needs to do is interview the people who were nearby, and then fill out all the reports when he’s done.
The toughest of the calls… well, the one that ended up with him fainting definitely counts, but the absolutely worst calls are the ones that have him and Parrish at the scene before the firefighters. Especially when there are victims who are extra vulnerable, and need more help.
“Parrish, we have to go in!” Stiles shouts over the noise of the flames from the house. “The truck is still a few minutes out, we’ve gotta…”
“We can’t! You don’t know when…” Parrish yells back, his eyes darting between Stiles and the house.
Just then, one of the window panes breaks and more flames burst out of it on the top floor. Stiles’ heart is beating in his throat, and he scans the rest of the windows for signs of anyone needing help. There are shadows and there’s smoke, too much of both to let him see anything.
“Stiles!” Parrish calls out when Stiles starts moving towards the house to get a better look. “Come on, it’s too late for us to go in! The truck will be here soon, stop!”
He can’t wait though. Can’t just stand around to wait for the firefighters, can’t do nothing. So he goes closer, keeps checking the windows to see if there’s anyone there. Behind him, he can hear Parrish shouting some more, and through the roar of the flames above he thinks he can hear tires screeching to a halt.
Just when he’s about to turn to check if the fire truck is getting there, another window on the second floor bursts out, and glass shards fly everywhere. Stiles does the only thing he can think of right then: he ducks down and curls in on himself, his back out like a shield. He can feel the prickling pain as the glass rains down on him, and hears the stomping of feet running towards him. There’s still glass falling a few beats later as the next window pane breaks -- or at least he thinks that’s what he’s hearing -- but none of it seems to be falling on him this time.
“Don’t move,” the familiar voice of Chief Hale orders when he tries to stand up. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Why are you this close to the house?”
“There could’ve been people,” Stiles replies weakly, wondering if he’s loud enough to be heard over the roar of the flames and the fire truck engine.
“You’re insane, and you’re going right into the ambulance, since apparently that’s what it’s here for now,” Chief Hale says, and helps Stiles carefully get off the ground.
There’s glass everywhere on the lawn, and they slowly walk over to the trucks, where a frantic Parrish is standing.
“I told you to stay here!” Parrish says, his voice tinted with anger and worry.
Stiles doesn’t dare to talk as he’s led towards Allison, who’s already putting on gloves and setting out her kit to help, her movements betraying her worry.
“RIght, both of you, stand here,” she says to Stiles and the Chief.
“I have to…” Chief Hale starts, but he’s shut down by a glare from her that sends chills down Stiles’ spine that have nothing to do with the glass pieces still embedded in his uniform.
“You have to nothing, Derek,” she says. “Your team is on it, Boyd’s got it under control. The house was empty,” she says with a pointed glare at Stiles. “The only thing either of you is doing is standing here, letting me get the glass out of wherever it went, and then going to the hospital.”
The way that they curse in unison would normally get some sort of pleasant or amused reaction from Stiles, but this time he just obeys Allison’s instructions and keeps his mouth shut.
-=-=-=-=-=-
“I’m not here for me,” Stiles says when he runs into Chief Hale -- Derek, he reminds himself -- at the nurses’ station.
“Did I say anything?” Derek asks, but it’s that little bit too defensive, giving away that he was going to comment on Stiles being in the hospital again.
It’s a few months after the fire that had both of them treated for cuts, pointedly ignoring each other even though they were in the same room.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m waiting for my friends,” Stiles says just as defensively. “They had their first ultrasound appointment.”
“Allison?” Derek asks, looking surprised.
“How did you know?”
“I’m here to pick her up,” Derek says. “You are Scott’s best friend. I should’ve known.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles bristles.
“I’ve heard stories about the things you two got up to,” Derek tells him, his lips curled into a smile, eyes shining with amusement. “Not that I expected the young delinquent to have grown up to be an officer of the law.”
“Well, it helped knowing the laws we were very much not breaking back them,” Stiles says, matching Derek’s grin.
The laugh he gets in response takes his breath away a little. He’s too used to seeing Derek as the Fire Chief, stern and serious, and the smile on his face is fascinating. When Stiles’ mouth drops open in surprise, he doesn’t miss the way Derek’s eyes follow the movement.
“Oh wow,” a voice from behind their backs interrupts the moment.
They both turn around and come face to face with Allison, who’s unabashedly grinning at them. Stiles briefly considers frowning, but her dimpled face looks too happy to be angry at.
“This strangely makes sense,” she says without explanation, and Stiles glances at Derek, who looks just as confused.
“What?” They ask in unison when they both turn back to her.
“Oh wow,” Scott says when he walks up behind her. “You were right.”
“What?” Stiles asks again.
“Right, we’re going for breakfast. You two are coming with,” Allison says, leaving no room for an argument.
He could try, but Stiles knows better than to try and reason with that tone. The last time he heard it, he had glass shards all over his back, and the memory alone is enough to make him follow her and Scott outside. Derek reluctantly follows, apparently also not willing to fight Allison’s decision.
By the time Allison and Scott leave again, the breakfast has turned into brunch, Derek and Stiles are deep in a conversation that makes them forget everything around them. In Stiles’ opinion -- not that anyone bothers asking -- there really isn’t any need for Allison’s “don’t make out in public, you’ll get in trouble” comment as she walks away.
He’s not thinking about that, honest.
When he meets Derek’s gaze though, he wonders if he should be.