So I was on a plane back home when this idea popped into my head and I decided to just write. I have other stuff to work on, but, as my laptop decided to die recently, I'm not sure when everything will be uploaded. Bear with me.

[Sterek mostly with hints of Scisaac.]

The title comes from the song "UNI" by Ed Sheeran, from the album "+". :)

This is an AU, so it does not follow the Teen Wolf storyline. Scott has not been bitten and Peter is not an alpha. The Hale family are all dead, but Derek immediately became an alpha. Laura is still alive, too. The Argents are hunters and are in town. Scott and Allison are in an on/off relationship.

When Stiles woke up he was in a lot less pain than what he expected to be in. Sure, he felt slightly confused and tired - which was ridiculous because he'd probably been unconscious for days - but he didn't feel like he'd been hit by a bus. Which is exactly what happened. He looked around him. White walls? Check. Weird smell? Check. Black floor? Check. Lumpy bed? Double ch

Great. Hospital.

The thing about having ADHD, along with absolutely no common sense or balance, is that you will probably end up having various accidents and incidents that most people don't have. Your brain is buzzing with thoughts that flash bright, but die quickly and then the cycle repeats endlessly. Stiles had been too excited thinking about Lydia's upcoming party that he'd managed to get an invite to that he forgot to check for an oncoming vehicle as he crossed the road. Long story short: Stiles collided with the bus.

So Stiles inspected the uber-clean hospital room with a nagging feeling in the back of his mind - why was he not in pain? Why wasn't he covered head-to-toe in plaster paris? The only thing foreign about his appearance was the drip that was connected to his left-hand. That was to be expected - everyone gets a drip when they're in hospital. Scott even got one when he was in for a broken toe. It's like tradition; a rite of passage.

He'd escaped with barely a scratch, unlike every other time he'd had an accident. It wasn't until Stiles heard a cough that he realised someone was in the room with him. Holding his hand.

Damn, how'd he not noticed that earlier? Maybe he was on a lot of morphine.

However, it wasn't just any someone; Derek Hale was in the same room as him. Derek Hale or, to give him his full title, Doctor Derek Hale. His dad had been talking about this guy for weeks. Apparently he was some big-shot doctor that had been working miracles in the ER and that their death toll had basically disappeared.

That was reassuring.

It didn't really explain why the guy felt the need to hold his hand. Sure, maybe he was into all that "human contact gives comfort" business, but Stiles hadn't exactly been on the land of the living for a couple of days at least. Weird.

Avoiding Dr Hale's gaze, he attempted to remove his hand from between the doctor's fingers. Dr Hale complied immediately and Stiles smiled tentatively. He wanted Dr Hale to know that he wasn't freaked out, he was just... confused. Confused and slightly drowsy.

Not that it didn't feel nice or anything.

Dr Hale didn't smile back; he didn't say anything either. He just raised his eyebrows slightly and got up from his chair. He wasn't wearing a typical doctor's uniform, either, Stiles noted. He looked like he'd just arrived in from a rock concert and he didn't own a razor. He was wearing a black leather jacket, with a light grey henley and dark blue jeans. Plain clothes that didn't look so plain on him. Stiles averted his eyes once he realised he'd been staring at Dr Hale's bottom in his too-tight jeans for, what could be counted as, an unreasonably long time. Maybe he was actually off-duty and Stiles' accident had caused him to be called into work.

That did seem plausible; Stiles had heard some worrying things as he was rushed into the ER. Nurses had told his dad that he was "in the best place possible" and that they were doing everything they could, but that he had to prepare for the worst. Stiles knew it was bad. He felt his body flip into the air as it hit the bus and he felt bones break. Bones that definitely weren't broken now.

Panic set in and Stiles wondered if he'd done more damage than he'd thought. He was in a side-ward and they were usually set aside for either very rich or very sick people. Stiles wasn't rich, so that left the other option: he was very sick.

He'd heard about people who had broken their back or neck and had become paralysed from the waist down. He couldn't feel any pain from his legs and that was weird, considering they had basically crashed underneath him. There had to be something wrong.

Doctor Hale chose that exact moment to speak to Stiles and break his train of thought.

"You're awake," he said softly in that voice. The sort of voice that accompanies the death phrases, as Stiles likes to call them: 'we need to talk', 'your mom isn't getting any better' and the now recent, 'you're now paralysed from the waist down'.

Surprisingly what he said next wasn't either of that.

"Well, Genim, you and everyone else that's been visiting constantly will be pleased to know that you're improving by the hour. You'll be out of here in no time."

Improving?

"What? Is everything all right? You're not in any pain are you?" Dr Hale asked, looking up from the tablet he was inputing information in and seeing the slightly sour expression on Stiles' face.

Stiles was having a hard time processing.

"So I'm not paralysed?" he blurted out.

Dr Hale's eyebrows furrowed slightly, "Should you be?"

"Er, yes?"

Stiles didn't mean it to come out as a question, but Dr Hale's question had him questioning himself. Definitely weird.

"Well, Genim-"

"Stiles," he interrupted, "My name is Stiles. Not Genim."

Dr Hale smirked at that.

"Well, Stiles," he said, emphasis on his name, "as I said before, you're progressing well. I'll let your father in to see you."

Dr Hale left abruptly, turning around and closing the door behind him mechanically. Stiles breathed out a sigh of frustration as he waited for his dad to arrive, hopefully with Scott and Lydia in tow. Who was he kidding? There was no way Lydia Martin would visit him in hospital.

Turns out Stiles could make two mistakes in one day.

Right infront of his eyes was the beautiful Lydia Martin, the one and only Lydia Martin. He wasn't actually dreaming or hallucinating on medication. She was actually here.

Stiles' breathing hitched slightly when she entered the room and his dad snorted when he saw the effect she had on him. The Sheriff and Scott practically ran over to Stiles and hugged him. Stiles winced slightly as Scott gave him a large bear hug. Lydia watched on as the scene played out, unsure of what to do.

"Dr Hale said you'll be home in a few days," Scott said excitedly, "Isn't that great?"

Everyone in the room was radiating happiness. From what Stiles picked up on, he must have been on the edge of death.

"Yeah. Glad to be on the mend."

The Sheriff pursed his lips before speaking, "I don't know what he told you, but-"

"He didn't tell me anything," Stiles interrupted, "apart from that I'm getting better."

"Well..." The Sheriff said slowly, "You nearly died, son. Internal bleeding and force of impact. You weren't breathing for over a minute before Dr Hale arrived. If it wasn't for him..."

The Sheriff trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. Stiles knew what he was going to say: If it wasn't for Dr Hale then Stiles would be dead. Stiles couldn't help shivering at the thought.

Dead. Not alive. Not breathing.

He had been so close to not existing any longer.

"Hey! You're fine now and that's all that matters," Scott said, being the concerned friend and optimist.

"Yeah, I know. I'm fine... really. How long was I out for?"

"Well, you were hit by the bus this morning around 8 and then-" The Sheriff began.

"This morning?"

"Yeah and then you were rushed to here. They were trying to stop you from bleeding out when Dr Hale arrived. He just... I don't know. He fixed you up good and proper, you know? Then he said you needed to rest and that he'd stay with you. It's about half seven now, so you've had a rough time of it. We had a little chat while one of his doctors-in-training looked over you while you settled. It was scary, Stiles. I thought you'd left me."

His dad's eyes began swimming with tears as he spoke and Stiles patted his arm.

"I'm okay," he reassured his dad, "I just can't believe it was this morning. I thought I'd been out for days. Hell, I feel like I've been out of it for days."

Scott and Sheriff Stilinski glanced at each other before focusing their attention on Stiles. Stiles watched their interaction closely and realised this is how it was going to be for the next few weeks. Great.

"He's quite the doctor isn't he?" The Sheriff asked innocently.

Stiles narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Dr Hale? Yeah, he's... uh," creepy? weird? definitely not human? "interesting."

Interesting wasn't a good enough word; the guy was a freaking enigma.

"He told me the same thing three times using different synonyms. He's definitely an owner of a thesaurus," Stiles babbled, "and he said I'll be out soon! Isn't that great? Still don't get how I have no bruises or broken bones, but whatever!"

Stiles' eyes scanned the room quickly to change the subject.

"Hey, Lydia?"

Lydia's eyes met his nervously and she smiled. Lydia Martin was nervous? There's a first for everything.

"I don't really want to interrupt any longer. Do you want me to go?"

Stiles nearly jumped up in shock, "What? No! Don't leave... uh, unless you want to. Wait, no. That sounded rude, but I didn't mean for it to be. Woah."

The Sheriff shook his head in the background and clapped a hand to Stiles' shoulder.

"What I mean is: why are you here? You and me," he gestured to the space between them, "we aren't, you know, close friends or anything."

Lydia looked slightly surprised for a minute and Stiles wondered if he should have kept quiet.

"I just came to see how you were. Everyone's been here today, but if you want me to go..." she said.

"Oh, no. It's just that we've never actually spoken before. I hoped our first conversation would involve a more able version of Stiles."

More abled version of Stiles? Smooth

Stiles really did need to control his brain to mouth filter.

Surprisingly, Lydia actually laughed. Granted it was polite and controlled, but still. Stiles had succeeded and there were witnesses.

The Sheriff had brought cards that people had left into the station for him. There were loads of them, signed by people that Stiles had no knowledge of. Turns out that being the Sheriff's kid gives you some kind of fame in a small town. Definitely weird.
...

An hour later and visiting time was over. Sure, the Sheriff could probably bend the rules and stay for longer, but (1) he didn't want to 'abuse' his power and (2) he could see that Stiles was getting more worn out as the minutes ticked by. All three of them kissed him lightly on the head and promised to return tomorrow - even Lydia. Stiles smirked to himself as they left.

Job well done.

His afterglow was ruined by a sharp knocking on the door. He groaned internally at the thought of a nurse poking and prodding him to take blood. He was in more pain than he had been when he woke up, but he didn't really fancy any pain medicine.

With a sigh he called out: "Come in."

However, his visitor wasn't a nurse; it was Dr Hale.

Stiles groaned internally again because it was Dr freaking Hale. He wanted to cringe earlier when his dad had made a pointed comment about the doctor. Sure, he was pretty good looking, but he was weird. Not creepy weird, just weird weird. Enigmatic.

"Your dad looks a lot happier," Dr Hale noted.

"I tend to have that effect on people," Stiles replied, a little drier than he'd intended.

Dr Hale didn't say anything else, he just tapped a few times on the tablet screen, watching Stiles in the process. Stiles felt his mind turn to jello as the doctor stared at him intently. Stiles thought it was the light, but he could swear that Dr Hale's eyes flashed amber as he stared at him. Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but the words couldn't come out right.

"Everything okay, Mr Stilinski?"

Dr Hale was evidently aware that Stiles had something on his mind.

"I thought... oh, doesn't matter. I told you. It's Stiles. Not Genim."

"All right, then. Everything okay, Stiles?"

"Better," Stiles grimaced.

There was a loud activation noise and Stiles heard a faint trickle of water. He looked beside him to the drip that was connected to his left hand. Fantastic.

"It's just some pain medication, Stiles. You'll feel better in the morning."

Stiles had learnt about pain medication and he knew something was definitely up. He shouldn't been feeling better so quickly. However, he couldn't seem to form coherent thoughts as he drifted off into a painless and oddly peaceful sleep. The last thing he could remember was a warm hand on his arm and the feeling of pain being suctioned from his body and leaving him.
_

Stiles woke up 10 hours later completely alone.

His door was shut and the room was freezing due to the fan that had been left on all night. Stiles stepped out of bed to turn it off when he realised that he probably shouldn't be out of bed. It was definitely weird. His legs had been cooped up for so long that they welcomed usage. He didn't feel weak or shaky or in pain - he just felt tired.

Stiles could hear raised voices and he decided to investigate. It was around 5AM and he thought most people would be asleep. As he passed most of the patients on his way to find the voices, he realised that most people were asleep. Who did the voices belong to?

Soon enough, he found the owners. It was Dr Hale and Allison's dad, Chris Argent. Stiles wasn't really sure because he'd only ever seen Chris Argent sitting in his car waiting for Allison. It was Scott who had the pleasure of seeing him nearly every weekend, not him.

They were arguing over a patient, Stiles assumed due to their constant mentioning of a cure. Chris Argent mumbled something that Stiles couldn't hear and then Derek shook his head. Stiles crept closer to them, curious to what they were talking about. He knew it was wrong, but he was bored.

"I follow The Code. You know that." Chris Argent said.

What the fuck? Code? What do they do, deliver messages to each other every night in Morse Code?

"It doesn't mean I'll turn a blind eye if I find out you bit him," Chris Argent continued, "you may not be rabid, but a new one will be and you know it."

Dr Hale raised his eyebrows.

"You know I didn't. All I'm doing is trying to save lives - not ruin them."

Dr Hale stopped suddenly and looked around.

"Someone's here," he said, "you should leave."

Dr Hale turned on his heel and walked over to Mrs Clary, the sixty year old lady who was standing just outside her door. Huh, Stiles hadn't noticed her there.

"Ann, is there something you need? I'll help you back into your bed and then we'll sort it out."

Derek disappeared into her room and Chris Argent sighed heavily, leaving the hospital quickly. Stiles' head was buzzing with questions: what did Chris Argent want? What were they talking about?

Stiles shook his head as he made his way back to his room, muttering under his breath as he walked. Sleep, he decided, would be a good idea, and he was fast asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He was asleep for maybe ten seconds when the fan was turned off from the security switch at the desk.

All criticism is welcome, providing it is constructive. My brain works in mysterious and wonderful ways, so there's no telling where the story will go. I love plot twists and unexpected outcomes.