Work Text:
1.
“Yo, Dave” he says, “Is it okay if I use your shower?”
“Yeah, sure” he shouts back, “Towels are in the cabinet under the sink.”
“Thanks” he replies, making his way to the bathroom.
Dave and Stiles had gotten acquainted at the start of their second year, being paired up immediately for some project when Stiles’ usual partner - a girl by the name of Kira - was out visiting her ill grandmother, or something. They’d shared a mutual love for superhero films, agent of shield episodes, and a Spiderman obsession. Which quickly made Stiles his wingman, even though Stiles claimed to be happily engaged - apparently his girlfriend worked at a garage somewhere. Last night they’d held a movie marathon - pulling an all-nighter - and one of his friends had joined them. The guy - Scott McCall - had already returned home to change for his weekend job at a local vet. Stiles had given him a high-five as he left and then sniffed his armpits declaring he stank. Dave agreed.
He reemerges from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, his hair dripping and a towel around his waist.
“Did you see where I put my bag?” he asks, looking around, “I’m pretty sure I packed some clean boxers just in case.”
“Uhm” he tries to say something, but all that comes to mind is what the fuck happened to you? and that doesn’t seem right.
“Dave?” he asks again, “You okay?”
“Are you?” he asks, nodding towards his bare chest. A bullet wound on his shoulder, a tattoo on his chest, a bite mark on his stomach.
He looks down at himself and frowns, “Yeah, I’m not bleeding or anything” he shrugs, “I’m good - oh, there’s my bag.”
He grabs the bag and smiles before disappearing into the bathroom again to get dressed.
2.
Stiles sighs. He has no idea how this happened, or why he even agreed to a round of strip poker with his friends from school - and thought he could win.
“You lose, Stilinski” Leanne says, smacking down her cards, “Take it off, babe.”
“Aw, crap” he sighs, so far he’d taken off his shoes, socks, hoodie, jeans and now he’d be taking off his shirt, “Fine.”
He gets up, stretching his shoulders and then pulling off his shirt, eerily aware that the moment he does it goes dead silent.
“Holy crap” Leanne mutters.
“Admiring my rock hard abs?” he jokes, looking down at himself, “I work out from time to time.”
“Dude, what the fuck happened to you?” Luna asks, her mouth hanging open.
“Oh, this one is from a lovely woman named Alana James, who kidnapped my girlfriend once” he says, pointing at the one on his shoulder, his finger moving to his leg, “This is from getting kidnapped and stuffed in a trunk by a robber who panicked.”
“What the fuck” Leanne’s eyes wide as she listens.
“This is from a coyote” he shrugs, pointing at his stomach, “And this I don’t remember. I think I fell from a tree when I was little.”
“You got shot twice?” Adam asks, he was aware of the scars but never heard the story behind it, “Seriously?”
“I healed both times” he shrugs, as if it’s not a big deal at all. As if he gets shot every other day - maybe he does.
“Obviously” he says, “What about the tattoo?”
“Superstition” he says, “It’s supposed to keep demons from being able to possess you. I know it is complete bullshit, but I figured, what’s the harm. Right? And it looks pretty cool too.”
“It does look pretty cool” Adam agrees, studying the tattoo, he’s about to say something else when Stiles’ phone starts ringing.
He quickly grabs it and picks it up, “HI there, babe” he smiles widely as he talks to his girlfriend - or fiancé - whatever -, “You done with your shift? Yeah, sure! Just give me five.”
He hangs up and grabs his clothes, “Malia is waiting outside for me with the car” he explains, quickly getting dressed, “Sorry guys, but her shift finished early and - I’ll see you on Monday.”
He leaves and both Leanne and Adam get up to look out the window at his supposed girlfriend. They see an outline in the car as they share a quick kiss when he gets in. But it’s dark, and raining, so they can’t really see what she looks like. They share another kiss, and another - and then she’s sitting on his lap and his arms are tightly wrapped around her. They break apart ten minutes later, foreheads resting against each other, then she gets back in the driver’s seat and speeds off.
3.
“You’ll be fine” he says, “I’m just gonna have to apply pressure to stem the bleeding.”
She doesn’t know what happened. One moment she was dancing in a bar, the next she’s by the side of the street with a sharp pain in her stomach and the weird Stiles Stilinski leaning over her.
“What happened?” she asks.
“You fought back, he didn’t like that” he grins, “You got him worse, sweetie, no worries. I called nine one one, they’re on their way.”
“Uh huh” she says weakly, it’s a warm night, and he looks around for something for a second before pulling off his shirt and pushing it into the wound.
“Who shot you?” she asks, trying to raise her arm to poke at his shoulder.
“A crazy bitch” he says, “But, as you can see I have experience with first aid. You will be fine, Selma. Perfectly fine.”
“I know” she smiles, “You’re weird, but I trust you.”
“Most people do” he replies, “It’s a good instinct.”
She hears the sirens coming closer, “How did you find me?”
“I was on my way to pick up my fiancé from work” he says, “And I heard you shout no. So I stopped, and saw what happened.”
“Did he escape?” she asks, drawing a deep breath and trying to ignore the cold spreading to her fingertips.
“He’s still crying like a baby from the mace in his eyes” he smirks, “You did good, Selma. You scream and you defend yourself. And you will make it far.”
“You think so?” she asks, the ambulance coming to a screeching halt.
“I know so” he says.
4.
He should’ve known this was going to happen when he signed up for a work out course. Sure, it was optional – but it was also recommended for those aspiring to go into law enforcement. So the running, the lifting, the self-defense classes were to be expected. The swimming – well, that just didn’t make any sense.
Their instructor – they’d be learning how to pull someone who was drowning from a pool – had them line up. And although Stiles wasn’t shy, he suddenly felt very self-conscious about himself – his scars were hard to cover up when you were wearing nothing but a pair of swimming trunks.
He can feel the other stare at him. In theory, people knew he’d gotten shot. It was general knowledge. But knowing about it, and seeing it, were two completely different things. They have a swimming instructor, because – believe it or not – some people in their class can’t actually swim.
“Okay, have any of you ever had to save someone from drowning?” the instructor asks, Stiles raises his hand and the man looks at him scrutiny, “Do tell?”
“I once held up someone in a pool for almost an hour” he says, “He got paralyzed by one of those darts, and there was some wild animal keeping us in.”
“Interesting” the man nods, “Anyone else?”
There’s no response, and the man nods, “Okay, let’s get started.”
They jump into the pool, and Stiles can hear the others whisper behind him, “What the hell happened to him?” a girl asks her friend, “What’s with the tattoo?”
“Who cares about the tattoo? Have you seen that bite mark?” her friend asks, “I mean – he’s cute and all. But it’s sort of scary. Right?”
“Right.”
Stiles is used to it by now – the whispers behind his back. The way people’s eyes wander to his scars, and the shocked expressions on their faces. It really shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.
5.
This should not be an issue here. Of all places in the world, not here.
“Take off your shirt” the nurse says with a sweet smile, “The doctor will be here in a minute.”
He sighs heavily as he follows the instruction, and he hears the woman gasp behind him. His shoulder looks terrible from behind, he knows. But at the moment he’s also sporting a few bruises and scratches on his back from fighting off an evil werewolf two weeks ago. Unlike his friends, he doesn’t have super speed healing.
It’s just a cold, the only reason he’s here is because Malia insisted he came.
The doctor walks in a few seconds later, and he stops in the doorway – an audible gasp – before trying to cover it up with a cough and continuing.
He checks him out, listens to his heartbeat, checks his reflexes, looks into his throat and ears
“You seem to be in perfect health” the doctor says, “A little cold, but that’ll fix itself.”
“Thank you, doctor” he says, looking around for his shirt.
“No problem” he says, then clearly hesitating for a moment, “Just – uhm. Your scars, they’re – well.”
“The people responsible are in jail” he tells the man, who lets out a relieved sigh, “Trust me, I prefer not to get shot.”
“The scratches on your back? The bruises?” the man asks, Stiles smiles weakly, ducking his head.
“I tripped while jogging in the woods” he says, “Fell backwards onto a pile of branches. Trust me, I’m way too clumsy for my own good.”
He finally finds his shirt and puts it back on, “Okay” the doctor clearly isn’t convinced, “Just – if there’s ever another reason.”
“Sir” Stiles interrupts, “I know what you’re thinking. But I am not in an abusive relationship. My dad is a sheriff, I would never.”
“Okay, sorry” he nods again, “Just – making sure. You are free to go.”
“Thanks” he says, getting up from the bed and accepting the paperwork.
“Just – try not to get shot again, or anything?”
“I’ll try my very best.”
+1
“Let me take a look” she says, pulling at the hem of his shirt, “Come on, Stiles – you accidentally poured boiling water over yourself.”
He sighs, allowing her to pull off his shirt, her fingers gently tracing the scars. He can’t help but pull back a little.
“Is this why you always keep your shirt on in bed?” she asks quietly, “The scar from Alana shooting you?”
He nods, barely noticeable and she sighs, “It’s nothing personal – it’s just. Every time people see it they act weird. I don’t want you to act weird.”
“Why would I act weird? It’s just scars” Malia says with a simple shrug, “They’ve made you who you are today… someone I love.”
“Okay” he says, “Thanks.”
“No problem” she smiles again, her warm hand on his scar, “You’re still my hero. And every little scar only proves how brave you are.”
“Even the one from when I was ten and fell from a tree?” he asks jokingly, Malia smiles at him, not a hint of mocking in her face.
“You climbed all the way to the top” she says, “That’s pretty brave, if you ask me.”