[ Derek needs another few minutes before he's willing to let Tate go. He doesn't answer him right away, and he pretends not to notice Tate willing him to stop taking away his pain; he brings as much of it into his own body as he can before it all gets to be too much for him, and only then does he gradually ease his hand away. He's sweaty and a little pale, but - Tate should feel better now, as long as he lets himself heal without aggravating his shoulder too much. ]

I believe you.

[ It's hard to believe that Tate could have just-- rolled out of bed when he's sure there are safety rails up there, but it's harder to believe someone would try to kill him and go undetected by both him and Derek. Derek smells the air for another scent and he doesn't find anything - just Tate's in the air, mixed with the overwhelming, residual energy of panicked chemosignals. Derek tilts his head back down to look at Tate and slowly, eyebrows meeting in the middle. He gingerly puts both hands on Tate's neck, just to hold him, reassuring him with gentle touches and firm eye contact. ]

Don't go home. Let me stay with you until morning. You can catch up on sleep, and I can watch over you.