Derek knew he was better than the other guys and he knew he'd treat Stiles better than anyone on the planet. Why should he have to work for it? But the sense of it all hit him. "When a person you want is involved with multiple people, it's up to you to show them you're the best, that you're worth them leaving the others behind."įor a moment, this idea angered Derek. "Excuse me?" Now Derek was really confused, where was Deaton going with this?
"I never had you pegged for a man who'd back down from a challenge, Derek." That you like someone of course." He laughed. I like the guy in the apartment next to mine and I thought we were on the same page but it seems he's into casual sex with multiple people."ĭeaton's eyebrows raised high on his forehead. I know how closed off you are and if you don't talk to someone about your problems it could seriously affect your mental wellbeing." He scolded. "I got mad about something, it's personal." Deaton raised an eyebrow, indicating he wasn't satisfied with the explanation. There was never any point in lying, Deaton always knew.ĭerek sighed, he wasn't particularly in the mood to play shrink with Deaton, but he knew he wouldn't be leaving the office until he explained himself. How did that happen may I ask?" He queried.ĭerek couldn't help but scowl, this always happened every time Deaton sensed that Derek's injuries were self inflicted. "It appears you've broken three fingers and sprained your wrist. "You've have worse injuries, Derek." Deaton chuckled.Īfter a few moments more of Deaton fiddling around with Derek's hand he sat back in his chair, a pensive hand on his chin. He took Derek's hand in his and bent his fingers and wrist this way and that, ignoring Derek's growls of pain. "I think I've broken a knuckle or something." He informed him, not caring to elaborate.ĭeaton rolled his eyes and gestured for him take a seat in the visitor's chair next to his. Derek couldn't help but smile, he'd been in this office so many times it was like a second home. "Derek? What have you done now?" Deaton sighed, spinning to face him in his swivel chair. Luckily, Deaton had a pretty roomy schedule that day and Derek only had to sit in the sterile smelling waiting room for ten minutes before he was ushered into Doctor Deaton's office by the short, redhead receptionist. The automatic doors of the clinic whirred open and Derek approached the reception desk and asked for an appointment with Doctor Deaton. The air was warm as summer approached, and Derek stretched out in the sunshine, wincing a little as the muscles in his afflicted hand twinged.
It took him no longer than ten minutes to get to his doctor's practice, and he made sure the drive was leisurely. He turned on some music then pulled out of the building's shared garage. Once he was in his car he relaxed into the leather upholstery, something about being in the Camaro always relaxed Derek. It wasn't like he was in love with Stiles or anything. Each day that went by without talking to Stiles, Derek found the ache in his chest growing all the more painful, but he continued to ignore it. Pulling on his sneakers, he left his apartment, subconsciously checking that Stiles wasn't by some chance at his door.
He threw on some sweats and didn't even bother touching his hair or eating breakfast. It was probably about time he visited a doctor. His hand was still aching something awful despite it being five days since he broke his headboard. "Fuck." Was the first word that came out of Derek's mouth when he woke up that morning. A/N: Hey my loves, wrote this while avoiding all my responsibilities hehe enjoy