I Do Not Own Teen Wolf.

"Hold on, just hold on, Stiles!" Derek yells as he runs towards Beacon Hills hospital.

He could hear Stiles' heart beat slowing, could feel the warmth of blood that flowed from the gap in his stomach. They had finally faced off against the Alpha Pack and Derek was fighting Deucalion, the leader. Right before he could hit Derek fatally, Stiles had jumped in front of him and taken the blow. And now Derek was running as fast as he could to the hospital, a broken Stiles in his arms.

Stiles' breathing was getting rougher and more shallow, his head lolling backwards and jumping with every step his alpha took. His blood soaked through Derek's shirt and was dripping to the ground, and he swore he could hear every time a drop hit the ground. Everything seemed loud. Overbearingly loud. Even the words Derek kept mumbling over and over.

All he could remember is seeing the man he loved in danger from an older, more experienced alpha, lunging at Derek and then pain. Had he jumped in front of his alpha, taken the hit for him? He really couldn't remember anything but the blinding pain he was feeling now.

The automatic doors leading into the hospital seemed to open too slow for Derek, but thankfully Ms. McCall was there sitting at the front desk when he rushed in, much too out of breath to tell her anything. She did notice the vacant, almost dead, look in Stiles' eyes and she had him rushed to the ER.

Now all Derek could do was pace back and forth, driving his pack insane, as he waited. Every bad thought he could think of was rushing through his head, questions that he couldn't have answered unless Stiles woke up. He was going crazy with worry for the teenager that had become the center of his life.

He didn't know what to do. The spastic teenager in the emergency room was his mate, and he hadn't even told him! How could he let someone that important to him just risk his life like that? Why wasn't he watching him more, why didn't he push him away? Derek gripped at his hair tightly as he continued to pace around the waiting room.

Allison and Lydia, who had left not too long ago, came back with coffee and handed the cups out, though the alpha refused. The hunter tried to console the werewolf, rubbing his back and telling him everything would be okay, that Stiles was strong and wouldn't leave them behind. He just wasn't the kind of person to do that. Derek still couldn't calm down.

Three hours, forty-eight minutes, twelve seconds, a punch to the face - courteous of the Sheriff -, and one very whiny pack later the ER light went out and an older doctor walked out still wiping his hands with a paper towel.

"He should make it, though he's still in critical condition. We have the worst of the wounds stitched up and bandaged, but there are some minor ones that we only cleaned. Mr. Stilinski was very lucky that his internal organs are still intact, those gashes were extremely deep."

"Can we go see him?" Derek blurted out before anyone else was able. The pack stared at him in shock, even the Sheriff.

The doctor nodded. "But only one at a time. He's still asleep, but we don't want him to wake up and see too many people. We're afraid he could have an anxiety or panic attack."

Derek pushed the doctor aside and walked into the room quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed, being mindful of the wires connected to the teenager. He grabbed one hand and pulled it to his lips, glad no one else was in the room as he kissed it lightly. Stiles' fingers twitched at the feeling and he hummed in his sleep. The alpha let a small smile touch his lips at the sound.

His eyes zeroed in on the bandages covering his mate's skin, little spots of red seeping through and dying the gauze. Derek growled at the smell, nose scrunching up in distaste. He ran his fingers over the skin that wasn't covered up or marred by cuts and bruises, finger tips rubbing lightly at the small tattoo he never noticed the boy had gotten. Derek looked at the little black triskelion that rested on Stiles' hip, another small smile coming forth.

Thick fingers continued to rub at the permanent mark until amber eyes opened sleepily.

"Derek?" Stiles' voice was rough from the wheezing he had been doing earlier that night.

The alpha sighed in relief at hearing the voice, albeit it not being perfect yet. He ran a hand through the short hair of the teenager before placing a soft kiss to the triskelion tattooed on Stiles' skin.

"When and why did you get this?" he licked at it once, twice, before pulling away.

"I got it the day I turned eighteen," Stiles smiled softly, squirming a little at the feeling of Derek's tongue on his skin. "And I got it because it tied me to you."

Derek stared at his mate with wide eyes before leaning down and chastely kissing dry lips.

"Never do something like that again, you idiot."

"What, the tattoo?"

"No. The almost dying."

Stiles let out a breathy laugh before pulling the werewolf back down for another soft kiss. "Can't promise you that, Sourwolf. I'm always willing to bleed out for you. . ."

Derek placed his forehead on the teen's, rubbing their noses together before Stiles could fall back asleep. Stiles rubbed back before letting his eyelids close once more, drifting off into a peaceful sleep being held by the werewolf he cared for so much.

I missed writing so much that I had to get at least something out. It's fluffy and I almost had Stiles die but I couldn't. It's based off the song Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons.

Hope it's to your liking!