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The hospital wouldn’t keep Peter anymore.
Derek knew that it was pretty inevitable. Eventually they would get sick of wheeling around a man who couldn’t speak, or eat, or barely even breath on his own. Peter was taking up space that the hospital could use for other patients that had the capabilities to heal.
Willow Manor had a nice name and that’s why Derek had chosen it.
He visited with the admissions receptionist once, and by the next week Peter Hale had a room (half a room, technically) at Willow Manor.
Peter didn’t really fit in there, Derek realized. Willow Manor claimed to be some sort of rehabilitation facility, for elderly and the like. It seemed like Peter was the only one who fell into the category of “the like”. He wasn’t at retirement age, but he was sick and incomprehensible enough to be admitted.
Derek might have felt bad for locking his uncle away, if his uncle could complain like the other residents sure did. And he visited often, which smooth the guilt wrinkles in his conscience.
Stiles, though, was an unfortunate side effect of keeping his uncle at Willow Manor.
Stiles was somewhere over age, Derek presumed, because he was there during school hours. He was also wearing nurse shirts and administering meds. Stiles called Peter Hale his “special inmate” and Derek hated it because it seemed to illicit some sort of glint in Peter’s eye that Derek couldn’t recreate himself.
But Stiles was also fairly attractive, and sort of endearing.
Derek put off his first visit as long as he could. His uncle was in Willow Manor for a week before Derek visited.
Stiles had been sitting with his uncle, in his uncles room. They were facing a television that was playing the news and Stiles was slouched down in one of the visitors chairs. He had a clipboard on his lap and he was babbling excitedly about the weather, of all things.
Peter didn’t make any acknowledgement that he heard Stiles, or even knew he was there. His eyes flitted blankly at the television screen and didn’t turn to face the voice.
Derek stood in the doorway and cleared his throat. Stiles stood up so fast the clipboard clattered to the floor.
“Are you looking for someone?” Stiles asked, scooping up his clipboard and stepping around Peter’s wheelchair so he was a little closer to Derek. His limbs where long and awkward, but Stiles knew how to control them surprisingly well.
“My uncle,” Derek said gruffly, nodding to Peter. Stiles made a face of recognition before glancing down at his clipboard.
“Right, Derek, we’ve been expecting you!” He glanced at Peter, as if they’d had countless conversations in the last week of when Derek was going to show up.
Derek didn’t say anything.
“I’m Stiles. I’d like to speak to you after your visit,” Stiles continued like Derek’s silence hadn’t thrown him off. “Regarding your uncle’s medication. Just ask the nurse’s station for me.”
He flashed Derek a charming smile as he left, shutting the door behind him.
Derek timed the hour and a half in his head. He wasn’t a big talker and usually he didn’t mind sitting in silence, but silence with his uncle was awkward and painful for him.
He patted his uncles shoulder before he left.
He approached the nurse’s station and leaned against it, catching the attention of a young woman.
“I’m looking for Stiles,” Derek said in a low voice. The nurse smiled, as if Stiles’ name had brought a severe joy to her otherwise dreary life as a nurse at Willow Manor.
“He’s just in there, dear.” She nodded towards the TV room. Derek stepped towards it and tried to ignore the pull in his stomach.
He hated nursing homes, and getting down to it, this is what this place was. First off, it smelled like a nursing home. Some sort of indescribable smell that Derek could pick out anywhere. Next, it was hot. And not hot immediately, when you first walked in. It was the kind of hot that built up on you and gave you red cheeks, while your hands stayed ice cold.
And old people, senile old people, made him feel awkward. He didn’t have people skills to begin with, but seeing the TV room filled with elderly people all falling asleep at once gave him the heeby jeebies.
He stood there awkwardly, watching Stiles talk to a woman who was sitting at a table, a child puzzle in front of her.
“Where am I?” She asked, looking up at Stiles with wide eyes. He rubbed her back comfortingly, his long fingers making smooth circles. She was genuinely concerned, genuinely didn’t know where she was.
“You’re at Willow Manor, Lucy.” Stiles said, speaking loudly but not impatiently. His voice was gently, despite the volume he was forced to use.
“How’d I get here?” She asked, her voice rising in panic. Stiles knelt down next to her chair.
“You took the elevator up, Luce,” he grinned at her and she relaxed a little.
“I don’t remember that,” She said earnestly.
“Neither do I,” Stiles answered. “I showed up to work one day and you were sitting in this very spot, playing tic tac toe with Dorothy.”
“How are you today?” She asked, her expression resetting.
“I’m alright, how are you?”
“I’m alright…” She trailed off, and then suddenly was looking very confused. “Where am I?”
“You’re at Willow Manor, Lucy,” Stiles said, in the same tone of voice he’d used before. He didn’t seem fazed by the repeat conversation.
“How’d I get here?”
“You took the elevator, of course.”
Stiles, Derek decided, clearly had the patience of a saint.
“I don’t remember that,” she answered. “You look familiar though. Do you work here?”
Stiles grinned and then he looked up and caught sight of Derek, “Lucy, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to speak to someone,” he nodded in Derek’s direction. Lucy looked at Derek and then leaned over to Stiles and tugged his shirt so she could whisper something in his ear.
She wasn’t very quiet, “does he work here?”
Stiles laughed, “No ma’am.” She let go of Stiles shirt and nodded grimly.
“When you finish talking to him, will you come and tell me how I got here? I don’t remember, but you look familiar.”
Stiles patted her back and nodded before leaving her side.
He led the way out of the TV room, smiling at residents as they went. He led them to a conference room and shut the door behind them. Derek presumed Stiles spoke to a lot of families in this room.
He wondered if Stiles had ever had to deliver the news of a patience death in this room.
“Take a seat, please.” Stiles answered, sitting behind the desk. Derek sat and looked at Stiles, expectantly.
“I believe your uncle would benefit from some cognizant behavioral therapy.” Stiles said, speaking seriously and at light speed. “We understand that there is brain damage that cannot be undone, but he is still relatively young and I believe he has the brain capacity to-“
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Derek interrupted, not really caring if he was rude. “But Peter has spent nearly a year in a hospital, working through every solution you’ve probably come up with. He’s here because the doctors-“
“Mr. Hale,” No one had ever called Derek that before and he didn’t like it. “I would like you to consider a few things before you decide on the treatment of your uncle. First, Willow Manor is an intended rehabilitation facility, and though it is permanent for many residents we still act as a rehabilitation facility. Does that make sense?”
“Alright.” Derek said slowly, not really following.
“I do fully believe that your uncle can-“
“I’m sorry,” Derek cut Stiles off again, “how exactly are you licensed to give your opinion on how my uncle can recover?”
Stiles sort of grimaced, “I’m head of the nursing department here, Mr. Hale. I also have a degree in psychotherapy.”
“You look like you’re seventeen,” Derek said bluntly.
Stiles stammered, his cheeks reddening. “Mr. Hale, my age isn’t exactly relevant to this conversation but if it will put your mind at ease I am twenty four years old.”
Derek frowned but didn’t say anything.
“As for your uncle’s medications, I would like to decrease his levels of gabapentin...” Stiles began to read off a sheet of paper.
“I want his doses to stay the same as they were at the hospital,” Derek said, mostly just to spite Stiles. He knew virtually nothing about the medications his uncle took.
Stiles frowned and took a deep breath.
“One more thing we would recommend is to…visit more than twice a week.” Stiles said that to all of the families, because no matter what was wrong with the patients, it helped them. “And when you visit with him, speak to him. Don’t sit in silence just because he can’t speak back. His eyes move, he recognizes people, Mr. Hale. He just need to speak to him.”
“Is there anything else,” Derek said, his voice strained. He was done with this kid telling him how to care for his uncle.
“No…” Stiles said softly. He blinked at Derek with doe eyes that Derek found annoying and attractive at the same time.
Derek stood at the same time as Stiles did. They shook hands, and Derek tried his hardest not to let the warmth of Stiles’ hand warm up his own any more.
###
Two days later Derek found himself sitting in the TV room next to his uncle. Derek was tense with the elderly falling asleep all around him.
Stiles, though, was completely at home there. Derek was watching Stiles, while trying not to look like he was watching Stiles.
“Hey.” Derek jumped and swung his head around. An elderly woman with a walker had taken the seat next to him. Derek gave her a tight smile and turned back to the TV.
“Young man,” she said, her voice piercing. Derek turned to her.
“Yes?”
“Are you visiting with Peter?” She asked, her eyes darting to Peter in his wheelchair, eyes absentmindedly following the movements around the room.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You know,” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “don’t trust anyone in here. Only trust your own pocket.” Derek raised his eyebrows and nodded, “see that boy over there?” She nodded her head to Stiles, who was laughing with a resident over something.
“Yeah.”
“He’s the best of ‘em.” She said, lowering her eyes. “He gives me mints sometimes. Don’t trust the rest of them-“
“Helen!” Stiles appeared, a wide grin on his face. “Are you sharing conspiracy theories again?”
“He’s a nice man,” Helen said, nodding towards Derek.
“So I hear,” Stiles said, shooting a small smile at Derek.
“He’s visiting Peter,” She said, nodding.
“Of course he is,” Stiles answered. “Who do you think he can trust?” He lowered his voice for that one. Helen opened her eyes wide.
“No one but his own pocket!” She stage whispered. Stiles nodded seriously and then smiled before wandering off.
Derek was irked by the whole situation, and he swore his eye was twitching by the time he walked out of the place.
###
By his sixth visit, he’d concluded that he had a massive crush on Stiles, and it wasn’t something he was willing to indulge in.
He told Peter about it, though. Because Stiles had recommended not sitting in silence with his uncle. It was difficult at first. Derek wasn’t much of a talker anyway, and it was even less encouraging when no one was speaking back.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Derek said, slouched down in the visitors chair he’d seen Stiles in that first day. His uncle was in his wheel chair, facing the TV, but his eyes were trained on Derek. “If you could still speak, you’d probably tell me to grow some balls.” He shook his head, “he’s just a kid, though. He’s the smartest kid I’ve ever met, but he’s just a kid nevertheless. And after that first day in the office he really, really doesn’t want to have a conversation with me outside casualties. Plus I haven’t…I haven’t been with anyone since Kate…”
Admittedly, it was stupid to mention Kate. The minute her name fell out of his mouth, his uncle started thrashing, making noises. Derek jumped up and practically leaped for the call button while trying to restrain his uncle so he wouldn’t tip his chair.
Nurses came in a flurry. Stiles rushed in as well and led Derek out of the room while the other nurses sedated his uncle.
“I was just talking to him,” Derek said urgently. “I was just talking to him, I don’t know what happened.” Derek was near sobbing. He never cried, but he knew this was his fault and he didn’t want to admit it. The whole thing was his fault.
“Alright,” Stiles said gently, in the same tone he used to speak to a resident who was crying over her confusion. “Come on, let’s talk in the conference room, alright?” Derek allowed Stiles to wrap an arm around his waist and lead him to the conference room.
He close the door behind them and sat in the chair next to Derek’s, this time.
Derek dropped his head in his hands, “it was my fault, I should have been more careful about what I was talking about…”
“Derek, you couldn’t know.” Derek suddenly hated that tone of voice. He grit his teeth as Stiles kept talking. “Different things trigger residents all the time-“
“Stop talking to me in that fucking tone!” Derek snapped, standing up. Stiles fallowed quickly, but didn’t look scared or nervous. “Christ, I’m not a patient, Stiles! I know what I did and you’re speaking to me like I’m…like I’m a crazy person!”
“You’re not crazy, Derek.” Stiles answered, his voice controlled, now. “I’ve seen families go through exactly what you’re going through but the fact that Peter responded to you is a good sign-“
“No!” Derek shouted. “You don’t get it. You don’t understand.” Derek collapsed back in his hair and wiped his hands furiously over his eyes. “It’s my fault Peter’s like this. With the fire and…”
Stiles knelt down beside Derek and spoke in a soft voice, gently pulling his hands away from his face. Derek was sure this was not proto-call, but he didn’t mind.
“I read the file,” Stiles said quietly. “I know exactly what happened. You have to know that it’s not your fault.”
“Because young and stupid isn’t exactly an excuse,” Derek said shakily.
“It’s nothing to be upset over,” Stiles said. “It’s happened, and now there are things to be dealt with. It’s very simple, Derek. The fact that your uncle is now somewhat responsive is a big milestone, do you understand that?”
Derek did understand that, but he wasn’t really listening to the words Stiles was saying. His eyes were trained on the movement of Stiles’ lips, and before he could even think of what he was doing, he took Stiles’ face in his hands and kissed him.
Stiles didn’t respond right away, but when he did he certainly didn’t pull back. He was eager and almost inexperienced and Derek found it addicting.
Finally, when they pulled away short of breath, Stiles made a confused sound. His cheeks were tinged red and his lips looked raw.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ He stood hurriedly and backed up, hitting the corner of the desk and nearly toppling over. Derek stood quickly and grabbed Stiles’ arm to keep him from falling. “You’re in a very emotional state and I shouldn’t have…god.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“I’d like to see you sometime,” Derek said. “Outside of here, I mean. If that’s alright.”
Stiles bit his bottom lip, hard. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I think that’s alright.
###
“I’m hungry!”
Stiles grinned, “when’s lunch?” He asked, as if he didn’t know.
The woman shrugged, just as the woman sitting directly beside Stiles said, “don’t listen to her. She’s always hungry! She’s gotten quite heavy since she came here.”
Stiles laughed and glanced at his watch, “Only a half hour until lunch, alright?”
Derek was sitting in a chair next to his uncle, watching Stiles.
“You probably don’t care to hear this,” He murmured in his uncles ear, “but the date I had with Stiles last night went really well.”
His uncle visibly rolled his eyes and Derek grinned. That was more than he’d ever gotten out of him at the hospital.
Derek stayed until all the residents had been taken to the lunch room.
“You wanna stay for lunch?” Stiles asked, approaching Derek sort of coyly.
“That depends, what’s on the menu?”
“I always bring two sandwiches,” Stiles answered. “The food here isn’t really…well, for people with teeth and full chewing capabilities.” Derek grinned and followed Stiles to his office, which was actually just the conference room.
When Stiles had explained it, he said that he didn’t actually want an office in the beginning. He opened for use of the whole floor, but wasn’t in there all too often.
The second Stiles shut the door, Derek had him pinned up against it. Stiles gave a breathy laugh, “when I said lunch…”
“Sh,” Derek said, pressing their lips together. “for someone who works with the mostly incoherent, you talk a lot.”
“Speaking of talking,” Stiles’ fingers splayed at Derek’s hips, gently curling under the fabric of his t shirt. “You and Peter seem to be communicating well.”
“Would it kill you to not talk about your patients for like, a half hour?” Derek teased, leaning his forward against Stiles’ and smiling.
Stiles bit his bottom lip and moved to slot on of his legs between Derek’s. He pulled Derek’s hips closer and kissed Derek’s jaw. “I think I can manage,” he breathed.
There wasn’t much talking after that.