Stiles was being truthful, Derek was just not use to a Stiles that did not want to run away. Maybe being allowed out of his room and into the rest of the house was enough for him.
Derek moved back to the bed and sat down. He was still sore, but his wound was heal, a bit pink but healed. It looked like there would not even be a scar. "I am fine, mother." He deadpanned. "My wounds are healed and I am not feeling like I am knocking at deaths door." He looked at the food as his stomach growled. "Is she angry about the sheets? Blood is a bitch to get out."