stylin_stiles | Amnesia

Amnesia

Stiles groaned as he slowly moved in his head, his head pounding like he'd been beaten with a two-by-four. He winced when he felt light shinning down on him, too bright for how his room usually was. "What the hell?" he grumbled, blinking until his eyes finally adjusted enough to see bright light shinning down on him. He jumped, quickly sitting up in bed...a bed that was a lot smaller than his and had rails on either side. He suddenly heard the beeps of all the machines behind him, hooked up to him. What the hell? He tried to remember being in some kind of accident, but last thing he could recall was just going to bed like any other school night.

He looked around the room but found himself alone. He pulled back the covers, pulling out the wires that were taped to his body with a slight wince. "Hello?" he asked, voice gruff from lack of use and lack of water. He slowly got to his feet, finding himself a little lightheaded as he went into the hallway. "Hello?"

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"Why wouldn't he be," she counter, making sure the iv lines weren't hurting Stiles since he pulled them out so rough.

"Do you want me to list the reasons alphabetically or..." he let out a confused laugh. "Screw Derek Hale, where's Scott?"

Well that was enough to confuse her. Why wouldn't Stiles be excited to see his husband? She frowned a little, tucking him in. "I think Scott is in the waiting room with them. So I'm gonna go get them okay?"

"Yeah...sure thanks," he mumbled, laying back on the pillow. He let out a breathe he didn't realize he was holding when Melissa walked out. All in the waiting room, so at least whatever happened he was the only one who got hurt. He could live with that. He reached up to run a hand over his head and felt...hair. His hand froze there, eyes wide. How long had he been out? Holy shit, he'd been in a coma.

It took less than a minute for the small group to get to the hospital room; the sheriff stepping in first, followed closely behind by Derek, both men's worried expressions being quickly replaced with relieved smiles at the sight of Stiles awake. It had only been a few days but for Derek is was forever.

Scott was last, smiling from the doorway as the other men crowded the bed, the sheriff asking him how he was feeling as Derek reached to take his hand.

He visibly relaxed when he saw his dad, though the sheriff standing that close to Derek was something he thought he'd never see...it was weird. "I'm ok," Stiles promised, knowing after losing his mom, his dad was probably going through hell with all this. "I mean I feel ok at least, I-" he stopped short, raising an eyebrow when Derek took his hand, wondering if the wolf was trying to get some sort of reading off of him. "You need something?" he asked, the warmth that had just been in his voice now gone. He tried to clear his throat, his voice sounding slightly different to him.

Derek frowned a little, slowly letting go of Stiles' hand when he saw that Stiles clearly didn't want him touching him. He looked between Stiles and the sheriff. "No. I'm just happy you're ok. You scared us."

Melissa watched from the doorway, pushing Scott further into the room.

"Yeah...I'm sure you were really concerned," he responded deadpan, before brightening up when he saw his best friend. "Scotty! Hey man, you..." he cocked his head slightly. "Wow, you look different. Not taller, sorry buddy, just different," he frowned, looking between all the faces there. "Ok seriously, how long was I out?"

Derek leaned back, suddenly extremely jealous of Scott and stiles' reaction to seeing him. Even the sheriff was concerned, looking to Melissa to ask her what the hell.

"Hey man," Scott greeted, stepping forward to the other side of the bed. "Different? You were only out for a couple days. Not too long. I shaved today so maybe that's it?"

Derek got up as the sheriff moved to Melissa to see what exactly had happened with Stiles. "I thought you said the CT scan came back normal," Derek asked in a hushed whisper.

"It did," she answered, watching Stiles.

Stiles couldn't help laughing at that, "dude no offense but I'd need a freakin microscope to know if you'd shaved or not." He looked around with a chuckle for any kind of reaction but everyone just seemed to be mumbling and looking at him. "Umm..no but really guys, it couldn't have been only a couple days. I mean last thing I remember was going to be last night....well last night from my perspective. Plus there's this," he patted his head. "Hair doesn't magically grow in a few days. Unless this is a wig? Scott did you put like a weirdo coma wig on me?"

Everyone froze a just watched Stiles for a moment. Melissa was the one to speak up first. "Nobody put a wig on you, honey. Not you gotta answer me a few questions and they might seem funny. But how old are you?"

Derek didnt like this. He could tell my the sheriff's scent that he was just as freaked out as he was.

"I didn't...I mean I didn't think you actually would?" he frowned, shrinking back in bed at the weird ass looks on everyone's faces. "How old...oh! This is where you ask me like who's president and things like that to check for brain damage?" he nodded, "cool. Just turned sixteen."

The room stayed silent for a few seconds, watching Stiles and trying to figure out what the hell they were gonna do. Scott looked confused. Melissa and the sheriff both looked concerned.

But Derek... he wore the expression somewhere between heartbroken and horrified. What the hell was he going to do? He ran a hand over his beard, trying to figure out the next step. "We need to call Deaton," he whispered to the sheriff.

"Okay.. now tell me who's president and what year it is," Melissa continued.

"Nixon?" he asked, looking around realizing all his smiling friends suddenly looked like they were at a funeral. "Obama, it's 2012...am I dead? Why is everyone looking at me like I'm dead?"

"You're not dead, honey. We're just a little worried because it's 2018," Melissa said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "And you're 22. Not 16."

Scott looked back to Derek who looked like someone just shot his puppy in front of him. Stiles wouldn't remember anything about their life. Nothing. The sheriff patted Derek's shoulder as the older werewolf leave the room to call Deaton.

"I..." he blinked a few times, trying to wrap his mind around what he'd just been told. "But that's...ok I get it, pick on the coma guy. Real nice. C'mon that's not..I mean...Dad?" he looked to the sheriff, eyes wide with fear and panic.

"We're not picking on you, Stiles. It's the truth," the sheriff said, stepping closer to his poor confused son. "But we're gonna get you fixed. Derek's calling Deaton right now. See if that thing that knocked you out could have done anything like this."

"Well I mean yeah, clearly I have like freakin brain trauma or something...which a veterinarian couldn't help much with," he shot Scott a look, not sure how to explain what was happening.

"All your scans came back normal," Melissa said.

Scott sat down in the chair that Derek had occupied before Stiles woke up. "They know about everything, Stiles. It's okay. Right now you just gotta stay calm."

"Wait they know everything? Like.../everything/ everything?" He shook his head, running a hand over his face when he felt whiskers over his chin. He pulled his hand back as if it had been burned. He put down a shaking hand, staring up at his dad. "Can I just go home now? Please?"

Scott couldn't even imagine what it would be like for Stiles. Or Derek...

"Sure. We can go back to my place if you want. Might... might be better for him," the sheriff said, looking over to Melissa for a moment.

She nodded. "I'll get the discharge papers." The papers that Derek would need to sign.

"Your place," he frowned, lowering his head as he felt the room starting to spin. "Right b-because I'm 22 and don't live with my dad anymore. I'm.." his voice cracked but he tried to shake it off. "Sorry, sorry it's fine. I can go to our place," he nodded to Scott, assuming they were roommates like they always planned.

Scott glanced around the room. "Sorry Stiles... we don't live together. You uh... you live with Derek," Scott said, not knowing how else to put it.

Melissa took that as her questions to exit so she could get the papers for Derek to sign.

Speaking of, Derek stepped back in as Melissa left, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Wait, what?" he started laughing, starting to come back to the idea that this was somehow an insanely elaborate joke. "I live with Derek....did we both loose some kind of insane bet? Do I have to live in an abandoned subway?"

Derek frowned over at his husband, who now barely knew him. "We live in a house," he said softly, the greys in his beard showing how much time has passed.

"And it's really pretty. And big," Scott said, trying to help. But then he thought. He liked back to Derek, wide eyed. "Wait he doesn't know about..."

"Scott," the older wolf warned. "He's had enough surprises for one day."

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