Chapter Text
Stiles sauntered down the hall, humming under his breath. It was the fifth time he'd ventured over to the long-term care wing of the hospital, and he no longer worried about getting caught. Most of the nurses knew him on sight, either from the times he'd visited his mom, or more recently, from the times he'd come in holding Scott's hand through another asthma attack. Regardless, they tended to cut him some slack.
Now he visited the hospital for a different reason.
Stiles knocked on the door frame for room 347 and poked his head in. "Hey, how's my favorite Batman villain today?"
As usual, the room's only occupant, Derek Hale, didn't move, didn't give the slightest indication that he'd heard what Stiles had said. Ah well, Stiles was used to it by now. Besides, it wasn't like he needed any help carrying on a conversation.
Scott's mom, Melissa, had given Stiles the basics on Derek's condition when he'd first come here a month ago. Derek had been here six years, the only survivor of a horrific house fire that had killed the rest of his family. It had left him burned, half his face puckered with scars, and he'd been in a catatonic state ever since. Stiles couldn't even begin to imagine how awful that would be, being trapped in your own body for years on end, all alone.
He had an inkling of how much being alone sucked, anyway.
He strode into the room and pulled up his usual chair opposite Derek's wheelchair. "So what should we do today? Another game of chess, even though you stomped me last time? Maybe checkers instead? Oh, I've also got Lord of the Rings Trivial Pursuit, and I will warn you, I am the trivia master. The only difficulty is remembering what happened in the movies versus the books. Hey, have you ever read the Lord of the Rings? If not, I should bring them. Hell, even if you have, I should bring them. You'll get a laugh out of listening to me stumble through Elvish poetry for five pages. Oh, or Harry Potter!"
Stiles paused, attempting to gauge Derek's reaction, only to see something red on his lips. That was weird. "Did you have cherry Jell-O or something for lunch, dude? Because whoever fed you did a crap job of cleaning it off."
He walked over to the sink and wet a couple of paper towels, then came back over to Derek. "I'm just going to wipe it off, okay? Having sticky stuff on my lips drives me crazy, so I can't even imagine how bad it would be if I couldn't do anything about it."
Stiles bent over Derek's face and wiped at the red stuff. Huh. It didn't come off as easily as it should've. He frowned. "Weird. This shit's really sticking on there."
He rubbed at it as hard as he dared, trying to get the red stuff off. "Damn, it's like freaking waterproof lipstick or something..."
Dude. Stiles paused. What if it was lipstick? Had somebody come in here and kissed Derek on the lips? That...okay, that was really fucking creepy.
"You got a girlfriend you aren't telling me about, big guy?" Stiles asked quietly, even though he knew that couldn't be the case. Derek had been here six years, and Melissa had said he'd never had a non-staff visitor before Stiles.
Yeah. "Really fucking creepy" didn't even begin to cover it.
He wiped at Derek's lips until they were clean, and there wasn't a spot of red anywhere that he could see. Stiles brushed his thumb over Derek's mouth, making sure he hadn't missed a spot. His lips were a little pinker now, after Stiles's ministrations, but thankfully it looked like he'd gotten rid of all the lipstick.
Stiles suppressed a shudder, and straightened up to toss the paper towels away. "Well. That takes care of that. Don't suppose you can tell me who did that to you?"
He turned his gaze back to Derek, but of course Derek didn't respond. His pale eyes, some combination of yellow and green and brown that Stiles had never been able to describe, stared unblinkingly into the corner of the room, his quiet breaths as even as they ever were. There was so much he wanted to know, so much he wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure if Derek even understood him. And after six years, he wasn't sure if Derek ever would.
Stiles sighed and pulled out the chess board, started setting up the pieces. "Come on, man. Let's have a rematch. I bet I can kick your ass, this time."
***
Stiles played through a game and a half of chess before he remembered to check the time. Shit. He was going to be late getting home.
He gave Derek an apologetic smile and folded up the board. “Sorry, man. I’ve got to head out. My dad’s going to be home soon and I need to make sure he eats something that isn’t a cheeseburger for dinner. Also I’ve got a chem test on Monday that’s going to destroy me if I don’t put in at least a little study time.”
It was probably just his imagination, but he thought the corner of Derek’s lip twitched up a little. Stiles smiled back. “Seriously, next time I’m bringing the Harry Potter books. You probably missed the last two, so we should definitely make sure you’re up-to-date on them. They’re awesome.”
He stashed the chessboard on Derek’s bookshelf, next to the other games, and then tapped the desk. “See you next week, dude. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.”
Stiles headed back out of Derek’s room and caught the first nurse he met, a tall blonde woman he’d only seen a couple of times. “Hey, um, nurse? Can I talk to you a second?”
She stopped and folded up the clipboard she’d been looking at. “What is it, sweetie?”
Something about the way she said “sweetie” felt off to him, but Stiles shrugged it away. “Um, I’ve been coming to visit my friend over in room 347, and I noticed he had lipstick on his face today. He’s kind of catatonic and doesn’t have any other friends or family in the area, so that’s just really—” creepy, unsettling “—weird. Would you all make sure to keep a closer eye on his room, so nobody’s going in there who shouldn’t be?”
The nurse reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Of course. I’ll make sure to let everyone know, and I’ll keep an extra-close eye on him myself. Promise.”
“Cool. Thanks a lot,” Stiles checked the nurse’s name badge, “Kate. I appreciate it.”
She smiled wider. “No thanks necessary. After all, it’s my job.”