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“Maybe you should slow down!”

Stiles could swear he felt Derek roll his eyes in the way his shoulders rose and fell the most minimal amount. He knew the wolf had heard him even through their helmets, his voice being distorted by their speed, the pounding rain, and the motorcycle's engine roaring from beneath them. He also knew that it had been a bad idea for their first test ride of Derek's new crotch rocket to be during a thunderstorm where each raindrop felt like a tiny knife to his skin even through their riding gear.

“Derek, seriously, I know you can walk away if you wrap this thing around a tree, but I’ll be a bit put out!”

The woods whipped by as Stiles squeezed himself tighter to Derek’s back, a rumbling rising from the larger man’s chest at the accusation he would lay the bike down with the teenager clinging to the bitch seat for dear life. The wolf wasn’t even sure why either of them were wearing helmets since he was absolutely positive they wouldn’t crash even in the dreadful conditions. So sure in fact he moved to turn his head and glare at his boyfriend.

“Stiles, I’m not going to to-”


Stiles had refused to take his eyes off the road even though it was nearly impossible for him to see anything that wasn’t a few feet in front of them getting ready to be eaten up under their tires. As such he’d been staring with terrible intensity at that tiny strip of road illuminated by their headlight and so noticed the pothole when it was just too late to avoid it. Derek’s head whipped back around as the front tire dipped, splashing water up into their already soaked jeans. The back tire avoided the hole only because it was already fishtailing wildly even as the former alpha tried to bring the bike back under control.

Thunder roared overhead as the bike tipped and Stiles yelped as he was thrown off the back. Derek reached behind him blindly, managing to grab hold of Stiles’ wrist as the two hit the pavement, still being dragged along by the bike on top of Derek’s leg.The older man yanked his passenger to him, his sharp ear ringing at the sound of the bike scraping the ground but still picking up Stiles’ strangled cry of pain and the harsh snap of a bone in his wrist as Derek pulled him to his chest, repositioning it so that they were sliding head first on their backs down the roadway. He knew that if he let go Stiles could slide away across the asphalt either into a barrier or under the wheels of an oncoming car that wouldn’t see him all in black. He clutched the human to his chest.

Stiles’ helmet had smacked the ground and dizzied him, but he was still conscious as the two men flew down the road, the wet asphalt serving as a slippery slope with his protective gear. The icy cold liquid was rushing all through his clothes and helmet and he was having trouble catching his breath as the the motorcycle continued to roar, the wheels spinning dangerously close to his legs as Derek tried to push it away.

When the machine finally stopped it was only because it smacked into a road blocker having veered off to the side as it lost momentum. It rattled the two men even more as they jolted so suddenly to a stop. Stile’s ears were ringing and his wrist felt like it was on fire. He was soaked through and he could hear Derek trying to talk to him, but it was like he was hearing it from underwater, his eyes slipping in and out of focus as his boyfriend pulled him into a sitting position by his jacket front. He’d tossed off his helmet at some point.

“Stiles? Stiles! Are you okay?”

He shook his head, trying to clear the ringing before nodding, his eyes finally glancing up to meet Derek’s. His breaths were coming wet and rapid, his heart racing. He wasn’t into a full on attack yet, but he could feel it clawing its way up his throat as the older man assessed him, hand gripping the front of Stile’s helmet to keep him steady. When it looked like he wouldn’t flop back onto his back, the wolf helped rid him of the protective piece of equipment and the frigid air filled Stile’s lungs with a stab.

“Your wrist?”

“Broken,” he huffed, cradling the appendage to his chest as he struggled to stand. Derek helped him up and immediately pulled him to his chest. The rain still pelted them mercilessly. Stiles could tell his boyfriend was doing a 5-2-5 count from the way his chest expanded and collapsed at slow intervals, likely trying to calm Stile’s own breathing, but he couldn’t make himself match it. He was starting to hyperventilate. “Derek-”

“I’m here,” the wolf growled, the rumble of his voice actually comforting Stiles who leaned his head fully into the juncture of Derek’s neck and shoulder. When the attack reached its peak, Derek was there breathing in and out slowly even when Stiles started to pant and moan, his lungs hurting with the effort. He eased a large wet hand down the human’s back and held him close while thunder roared and cars kept passing by in odd intervals, their headlights catching the glare of his eyes.

Eventually Stiles was able to bring his breath under control, matching it to Derek’s as he started to murmur and hiccup about all the things he could see and feel in that moment, trying to drag his mind away from their accident. The bike’s headlight was busted, but the red brake light still glowed in the night near their knees. Steam was coming off their, or more likely Derek’s, body as they stood in the downpour and Stiles smoothed his hand over the expanse of his shoulders, the stubble of his cheeks, feeling everything he could and describing it in detail to his boyfriend who just nodded and hummed as he spoke.

When the attack passed, they were able to assess their situation and both came to the conclusion that they were screwed. Stiles laughed the situation off in a type of hysterical manner as he noted they’d left their cells back at the house for the ride. Derek’s new toy was no longer rideable and they were a ways out of town. Huddled at the side of the road, they contemplated perhaps Derek shifting to wolf form an running for help, but fate seemed to finally catch note of them and a car pulled to a slow stop not far from where they’d ended up.

The elderly couple inside offered them a ride into town, to the police station of all places and they climbed into the back seat of the Sedan, thanking Gerald and Glinda profusely as they passed over a set of travel blankets that Derek piled onto the shivering Stiles. They all talked amicably about the crazy weather and Glinda about fainted as the young men detailed their accident, but eventually there was nothing left to discuss and the vehicle fell into silence but for the rain pelting it from the outside. Stiles leaned into Derek, wrist still held protectively to his middle as his head dropped down onto his partner’s shoulder.

“Knew I should’ve said no to the bike.”